


Precious To Me...

by EyeInTheDark



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Drabbles, Established relationship?, F/M, Fluff, Following no particular time frame, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Non-Linear Narrative, Past Child Abuse, Platonic Female/Male Relationships?, Short one-shots, spoilers for season 2 through ?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 29,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2456957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyeInTheDark/pseuds/EyeInTheDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A multi-chaptered series of drabbles and one-shots featuring Daryl and my OFC Cheyenne</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> Just a series of random drabbles and short one-shots featuring my OC paired with Daryl, maybe a little Rick/Michonne at some point. No slash, no Caryl, no Bethyl. Sorry, that's just the way I roll. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or any of it's characters. All I own is the OFC and the plots in here :)

* * *

 

...In all his fantasies, in all his dreams that didn't consist of nightmares, memories of his daddy beating him, Cheyenne is there, she likes him. In his fantasy world, she touches him back when he strokes her cheek as gently as he can. She doesn't ever strike him, try to hurt him. She doesn't mess with his head. She mirrors every emotion he carries for her, reflecting it back tenfold.

He imagines her smiling, saying sweet and loving: "You're mine...forever and ever...I'll never leave you, Daryl...Not ever..."

And strangely enough, when he wakes up, sees her in the morning light, walking alongside him, he knows those words -whether he imagined them or not- are the pure truth...


	2. Precious To Me

"PRECIOUS"

definition: Greatly loved or treasured by someone

synonyms: valued, cherished, treasured, prized, favorite, dear, dearest, beloved, darling, adored, loved, special.

~*~

...In her own way, Cheyenne tries to make Daryl see. Tries to make him take notice of her, to pay attention to the subtle signs she gives, the hints she makes.

She tries to pour out every emotion, every feeling she has toward the hunter through her eyes, her actions.

_You're so beautiful. You're so perfect. You're so precious to me. I cherish you. You're my world, my everything! I love you so much. Why can't you see that? Hear me...See me...Please, love me as much as I love you. Please...Just love me..._


	3. Words

...Daryl Dixon never says I love you.

Not ever.

Actions speak louder than words in his case. Everyone knows that deep down, he cares, even when he says he doesn't. Things hurt his feelings just as much as anyone else. Maybe more.

No, Daryl never says I love you, not out loud. But deep down, he does care. Almost too much at times...


	4. Jealous

...Daryl tries to hide the irritation written on his face, in his body language, when Rick asks Cheyenne to come help him in the prison fields.

Gardening. That's what Rick _says_ he wants help with, but Daryl can't help but feel something strange creeping into his stomach when Cheyenne says yes, the strange new feeling churning about like a raging storm.

Jealousy?

He chews on the side of his thumb nervously, trying to process this new, foreign feeling causing his heart to pound a bit faster than normal and makes his blood boil at the sight of the two of them walking out across the field together.

With a growl to himself, he stalks off in the direction of the watch tower, bumping into a very confused-looking Carol as he does so, feeling another sting of anger when he hears Cheyenne's laughter followed shortly after by Rick's.

Yep. He's jealous...


	5. Beautiful Soul

"... _You are more beautiful than the scars on your skin or the ugly thoughts in your head, and you need to understand that_..."  
-author unknown (quote via Higgystar, tumblr)

 

...Daryl never lets anyone see him without the barrier of a shirt covering his body.

Cheyenne is curious about the tattoos she's seen peeking out from under the edge of his sleeveless shirts, but doesn't pry. She never was one to pry. She observed more than asked questions, finding you learn just as much or more by simply watching a persons actions.

She's noticed the way Daryl flinches when someone touches him unexpectedly, the way he watches them warily for a few moments in the aftermath before relaxing. And after witnessing his actions after he had to break up a heated argument between Rick and Merle, she knows.

Daryl may think he's kept everything hidden away, that nobody is smart enough to figure it out. But she knows.

Daryl was abused. She's not sure at what point in his life, but she's sure it must have started at a fairly early age for him to react the way he does.

She decides to talk to him about it one night a few weeks after Merle's death, feeling the need to share some of her own background with abuse when it happens.

Without thinking, she makes her way up to his place on the landing, finding him in the nearest cell, his back to the doorway.

Cheyenne has to stifle a gasp at the sight she's greeted with.

His back is a palette of scars, two demons cascading down his right shoulder as if fighting against each other.

He must have heard her, because he whirls, shirt in his hands, a glare on his face the second the shock disappears.

"Get out."

"Daryl---" she tries to apologize, but he's in her face, fairly shouting at her as she backs out of the cell, terrified at the rage burning in his fiery blue orbits.

"GET OUT!!"

Hurrying down the metal steps to the main floor and running outside, Cheyenne hides herself away in one of the parked vehicles out in the yard.

She's crying now, heart shattering in sympathy for the hunter.

How could anyone be so cruel? Who could hate their child enough to hurt them so badly? She was fairly sure it must have been a family member, she had seen how rough Merle could be, even if he didn't actually _try_ to hurt Daryl, she knew he sometimes did.

The next three days roll by, Daryl avoiding her like the plague.

It's Rick who mentions needing supplies for Judith and Cheyenne quickly volunteers to go with the hunter when she finds out he's the one going.

He won't meet her eyes when they get on the motorcycle, refuses to talk to her while they scavenge the baby aisle of a dilapidated thrift store not far from the prison.

"It's alright, ya' know," Cheyenne finally speaks up, tired of the silence. "What's done is done. The past is in the past."

Daryl looks up, expression reminding her very much of a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming 18-wheeler.

"What?"

"You know what I mean," she nods, gesturing with her eyes toward his back. "It doesn't matter."

"I don't wanna talk about it," Daryl growls, looking a mixture of ashamed and hurt all at once. "Jus' forget it."

"I didn't ask you t' talk about it. I'm askin' you t' listen t' me," Cheyenne gets in his face when he tries to turn away from her, forcing him not to ignore her. "Those scars, they don't mean a thing. You're beautiful and special in your own unique way, Daryl."

He grunts, refusing to look her in the eye as he pushes away from her, trying to turn his back on her again.

"Ain't nothin' special 'bout me..." he mumbles past his thumb as he chews the side of it self-consciously.

"You're wrong Daryl. You need t' stop puttin' yourself down." She touches his bicep gently, ignoring the slight flinch as he turns to give her a sideways glance. "You need t' just except the fact that people _do_ care about you, flaws or no, and that none of us would _ever_ do _anything_ to hurt you like that on purpose."

He gives her another soft grunt, eyes downcast as he seems to fight his emotions, but surprisingly enough, he doesn't pull away from her.

"We should get back," he murmurs after a few moments of silence and Cheyenne nods.

Maybe she had gotten through to him. She hoped she had.

Daryl needed to understand that he was beautiful. On the inside and the outside. And in more ways than one to her.

Daryl needed to realize that, deep down, he truly has a beautiful soul, no matter what his flaws...


	6. Anything For You

"CARING"

definition: Displaying kindness and/or concern for others.

synonyms: kind, kind-hearted, tender, attentive, thoughtful, considerate, affectionate, loving, doting, fond, compassionate.

...It was stupid in his opinion, but he had seen the look on her face when she realized she had lost it. Sadness filling those bright blue eyes -which he secretly loved to see dancing when something made her happy- causing him to feel sorry for her. A strange feeling coming over him, a want to make it all better for her.

It had been a tiny, silver heart key dangling from the most fragile looking silver chain he had ever seen. As far as he knew, she had never taken it off. She'd been wearing it the day she had followed him back to the farm, and she was still wearing it now that they were settled in to the prison. Correction: _had_ been wearing it.

Now it was gone. Lost forever, who knew where.

And so, that was how he had found himself in the jewelry department of a run down Wal-Mart 20 miles from the prison, Glenn and Maggie were off in one direction, Michonne in another, leaving him to his own fancies.

He felt stupid, gawking at jewelry instead of looking for supplies, but if it made Cheyenne happy...

With a frustrated sigh, he smashes the glass cabinet with the butt of his crossbow, reaching in and withdrawing something he thinks she'll like, unable to avoid cutting himself clumsily on the shattered glass in his haste.

He can't help but smirk a little to himself at the thought of how happy she'll be, the cost of his special gift all but forgotten at the thought of her smiling face etched in his mind.

Upon their arrival back at the prison, he finds her, perched up in one of the watch towers reading a book, and he clears his throat, alerting her to his presence.

"How'd it go?" she asks, obviously curious about their latest supply run.

"Not bad," he says, leaning against the railing and watching her.

"What'd you do to your arm?" she asks suddenly, pointing to his injured limb.

"Jus' got caught up on a little broken glass," he mumbles, picking at the freshly scabbed over flesh absentmindedly.

"Don't do that," Cheyenne chides gently, taking his wrist gently and giving his arm a thorough examination. "You'd best put somethin' on that so it doesn't get infected."

"Yes, mother..." he smirks when she scrunches her nose up at him.

She gives him a light shove, a playful smile quirking up the corners of her mouth.

Before he can lose his nerve, his heart pounding like a herd of wild horses hooves thundering over the western plains, Daryl grabs her hand, dropping his gift into her palm.

"Here."

She looks up at him, a mixture of confusion and curiousity on her face as she opens her hand, revealing the tiny, silver heart-shaped locket he had picked out for her.

"Oh, Daryl..."

"What?" he's concerned in an instant, fearing he's done something wrong, that she doesn't like it.

"It's...it's beautiful..." she murmurs, quickly unclasping it and holding it out for him. "Put it on for me? Please?"

Gingerly, he takes the delicate little chain and waits patiently until she's moved her hair out of the way, then he carefully fastens it around her neck, blushing bashfully when she turns around with a smile lighting her face.

"How's it look?" she asks, almost bouncing with joy.

He shrugs, giving a little nod of approval. _You look beautiful,_ is what he's really thinking, but he just can't seem to bring himself to tell her that.

"Thank you, Daryl..." she whispers, standing on tip-toe and kissing him lightly on the cheek, her own cheeks flushing a lovely rosey pink before she's rushing off, leaving him speechless.

Feeling a blush of his own creeping up the back of his neck, Daryl makes his way down from the watch tower, blushing all the more when he catches Cheyenne telling Maggie, Beth and Carol about her new prize.

With a sigh of contentment, he heads to his sleeping area on the landing, feeling that, for once, he did something right. Cheyenne was happy with him, and that was all that really mattered at the end of the day.

"Anything for you..." he murmurs, watching from his perch as Cheyenne fairly skips to her own cell for the night. "Anything..."...


	7. Lullaby

...He hadn't expected the skinny bastard to jump out of nowhere and pump a 44 slug into his chest. If he had, he wouldn't have allowed her to come with him.

The bullet had just missed his spleen -or at least he thought it had, he wasn't a doctor- and lodged somewhere deep inside of him, just above the spleen, wedged between heart and left lung.

Cheyenne had miraculously taken care of their attacker on her own, waiting until he ran around the corner, intent on finishing Daryl off, unaware of her presense. She had waited, crouched low above him, protective as a mother bear of her cub, lunging at the stranger, plunging her knife into his chest the moment he rounded the corner, taking him to the ground with a high-pitched feral-sounding roar.

When Daryl was finally able to drag himself into an awkward sitting position, the sight of the dead man made him nauseous. Neither blood nor gore ever really bothered him, but this...He's suddenly convinced that this was where the words "overkill" and "slaughter" had originated from.

Cheyenne is covered in blood, she's stabbed the man brutally in the chest and stomach over and over, then once in each eye, protecting Daryl in all the agressive ways she could muster, giving the prick the horrid death she deemed him worthy and deserving of.

She's by his side a moment later, hearing his hiss of pain.

"Daryl..." she murmurs, appearing to be afraid to even touch him. She looks frightened again, her rage disappearing at the sight of him, bleeding heavily onto the concrete and white as a sheet.

There's no time for him to reply, the hissing and growling of approaching walkers has her grabbing for him, helping him to his feet and hefting his crossbow for him.

They find a small house with a decent privacy fence shielding it from the outside world and lock themselves inside.

Once inside, Daryl's knees give out under his own weight and he doesn't care that he's bleeding out on the carpeted living room floor.

Cheyenne is rushing about, franticly searching for the things she'll need to fix him up.

"I don't know what I'm doing!" she suddenly cries, tears welling up in her eyes as she falls to her knees beside him.

"Yes, you do..." he reassures her calmly from his position on the floor. "You've seen Hershel and Doc do it plen'y'a times..."

She shakes her head 'no'.

"Don't shake your head at me, you know you have...You can do this Cheyenne..."

"No, I-I..." she hiccups, unable to finish, but she draws her knife and a bottle of rubbing alcohol from their pack anyway, pouring it over the blade.

"Yes you can," he feels the sting of the alcohol being poured over the open wound, sticky, hot blood trickling over his side and soaking into the carpet beneath him.

She's still crying, hands shaking as she flips his shirt open.

He's barely hanging on to consciousness, but with a last effort to calm her, he forces his eyes open, becoming very lucid for the moment, his tone stern and commanding.

"Cheyenne!"

"What?..." she sniffles, eyes wide and scared.

"Get your shit together and help me..."

His strength ebbs, and he's flat on his back again, unable to hold his head up any longer.

His words must have broken through to her, because a second later, he's gasping in pain, stifling a yell as she makes a quick incision in his chest.

Her fingers inside his chest a few seconds later are sickening and wrong, but it's necessary with no pliers or medical instruments on hand. Daryl hears her calling to him to stay awake, don't leave her, but he can't. It's all too much.

His eyes slip closed of their own accord, and he's falling into the black oblivion of painless unconsciousness.

~*~

When he wakes, it's dark. Cheyenne is sitting beside him, holding his hand and humming softly, stroking his sweat-dampened hair back from his forehead with her free hand.

"Thank God..." she whispers when he moans softly, alerting her to his consciousness. "I thought I was gonna lose you..."

"No such luck..." he mumbles sarcasticly, shifting slighty in an attempt to find a more comfortable position, whimpering in pain a moment later when the movement causes pain to blossom in his chest.

"Shhh..." Cheyenne soothes, fingers ghosting over his lips and carding through his hair. "It's alright. Just lay still. And don't talk like that."

He nods slightly, closing his eyes and trying to go to sleep after she helps him take a few sips from their shared water bottle.

He finds himself relaxing into her touch all the more when she starts to sing softly to him, his pain and embarrassment of needing a lullaby like a baby, of being so volnurable, forgotten.

Cheyenne sings, her voice soft and sweet;

_You are my sunshine_   
_My only sunshine_   
_You make me happy_   
_When skies are gray_   
_You'll never know, dear_   
_How much I love you_   
_Please don't take my sunshine away..._

~*~

The next morning, he's able to get up with her help and they find a van that's in good enough condition to run.

Daryl stretches out on the back seat while Cheyenne drives, and soon enough, they're back at the prison. Rick helps him inside, and Hershel cleans his wound properly, praising Cheyenne's on-the-spot-medical skills.

That night, Cheyenne comes to his sickbed, an empty cell not far from Hershel's, and sits with him for a while. Just watching him as he tries to relax and fall asleep. Silently letting him know that she cares.

And just when Daryl starts to think he'll never fall asleep, Cheyenne begins to hum, and a few moments later, she's singing to him, soft and gently, tracing the star tattooed on his right hand with a feather-light touch.

_You are my sunshine_   
_My only sunshine_   
_You make me happy_   
_When skies are gray_   
_You'll never know, dear_   
_How much I love you_   
_Please don't take my sunshine away..._

The lullaby helps, and before he knows it, his eyes are drooping closed and finally, he drifts off into peaceful, dreamless sleep, Cheyenne leaving him when she's sure he's dead to the world for the night.

Maybe lullabies weren't just for babies after all...


	8. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: there *are* elements of rape/non-con in this chapter, nothing graphic, but it's still mentioned. Also, there *are* spoilers for 5x01 and 5x02 (sorta). And yes, I stole Carol's stupid scene. DEAL WITH IT. This is a Daryl/OC universe!! And I'm a jealous fangirl!! :) Remember, this IS an AU fic, so timelines are pretty much non-exsistant aswell. This one-shot may be set during/after 5x01, but the next chapter may be set in season 2.

Gareth had taken a special interest in Cheyenne the moment they were introduced.

Daryl hated the way he looked at her. A stranger, -another man-, cunning like a wolf, his eyes sweeping over her 5'1" frame, taking in every exquisite curve of her body like he owned her.

That first night locked in boxcar A, Gareth, followed by five men brandishing AK-47's had invaded the cavern-like darkness of the train car, dragging Cheyenne away.

Daryl had put up a brave fight against the men, bellowing like an enraged bull for them to let her go. A gun butt to the side of the head had brought the ruckus to an abrupt hault, Cheyenne's pleas for them not to hurt him fading into the darkness as she was dragged away by Gareth.

Now, standing in the woods, watching Rick unearth their buried weapons, Daryl thinks of her.

They hadn't seen any trace of her, not a single thing to suggest that she was even still alive, and they had been forced to make their break, give up the frantic search and bolt while they still could, Carol finding them in the woods and revealing that she was the culprit for the Terminans unexpected demise.

Gareth. That smug bastard. Daryl wasn't sure if he had been killed during the chaos that had erupted within the confines of Terminus, or whether he had somehow managed to get away. He was fairly sure Rick had managed to pop him before they made their escape over the fences and into the woods, but had the former lawman _killed_ the bastard?

He wished Rick had missed. He wished he could have the little prick in front of him right here and now. He'd kill him. Slow and painful. Gareth would wish he had never pulled Cheyenne from that damned boxcar. That they had never set foot in Terminus.

He's plotting the other man's murder in vivid detail, chewing self-consciously on his lower lip, barely noticing when Rick and Ford start arguing about going back to finish off those who haven't met their maker yet in Terminus.

The sound of a twig snapping, the telltale rustling of dead leaves is what strangely draws him out of his dark thoughts, movement to his right catching his eye and causing him to look up, expecting to see a walker or a Termite approaching.

The sight he's greeted with takes his breath away, his eyes growing wide, and before the others can utter a word, he's bolting forward, arms open wide, attacking the girl stumbling into the clearing with the biggest bear hug he's capable of giving.

Cheyenne sobs, thin, trembling body sagging into his strong embrace as they fall to the ground on their knees together, clinging to one another for dear life.

"I thought Gareth..." his voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence as hot tears burn his eyes and land on her filthy golden hair, her side-braid nearly non-exsistant, long strands pulled from the braid to hang in tangled, matted clumps around her face and neck.

Cheyenne doesn't reply. Instead, she clings a bit tighter to him, sobbing bitterly against his chest.

Daryl knows without a word. That sick son of a bitch.

If Gareth is still alive, he'll find him. And when he does, he'll make him wish he was never born.

In that moment, Daryl pushes his anger asside, holding Cheyenne close and tenderly stroking her matted hair, rocking her ever so slightly in his arms.

She finally looks up, hands coming up and her fingertips ghosting over his lips lightly, a faint smile etched on her mouth. "You're alright...?"

He nods slightly, feeling relief flood his entire being as she gently brushes away his tears, her hands on either side of his face.

"Good..."

Rick suddenly clears his throat, reminding them that they're not alone, and they stand up, Cheyenne still trembling slightly as Rick steps up to her, hugging her gently when she reaches for him.

It's the same with everyone, Cheyenne even offers hugs to the new people, Eugene looking very uncomfortable, and Ford appearing to be a mixture of annoyed and pleased that she was excepting them so easily.

Daryl keeps her close while Carol leads them to a little cabin, ultimately reuniting the Grimes family, holding her hand comfortingly as they stand back and watch the heartwarming scene of father and brother reunited with the child they had all thought was lost forever.

~*~

Later that night, Daryl holds Cheyenne while she sleeps, keeping her warm and protecting her from anything lurking in the darkness.

He wants to ask her. Wants to know exactly what Gareth had done to her. Just in case the man shows up again. He has a strange gut-feeling that they haven't seen the last of the Terminan, and he wants to be prepared to exact revenge on his skinny ass.

Daryl is confident that Cheyenne will tell him when she's ready.

With a quiet sigh, he cuddles her a bit closer, resting his chin on her head as she sleeps, trying to relax himself. After a while, he drifts off, relief at having her here, safe in his arms, helping to calm and relax him considerably.

He'll find Gareth if he's still out there. And when he does, he'll make the other man pay dearly for his actions.

Make no mistake of that...


	9. Lead Me Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As I warned in the last chapter, I'm jumping around with timelines and such. Set during season 2x05 "Chupacabra"

..."Yeah, you better run!"

The shout catches her off guard and she haults in her tracks.

Listening carefully, she can just make out the telltale snap of twigs and the rustling of underbrush not far from her current location.

Ignoring her better judgement, she follows the instinct of curiosity and heads in the direction of the noise.

She keeps low in the bushes, hides behind trees and follows the haulting figure of a man, staggering on unsteady limbs in the direction of the farm she's seen while wandering the woods.

He stumbles, leaning heavily against a tree for support. He's deathly pale under a coat of grime and blood smeared over his bare arms, his face, everything really. There's blood caked at his side where something's been tied as a tourniquet -she thinks it's a ripped up shirt- and she wonders what could have happened to the man.

He's dragging a crossbow behind him, too weak to heft the weapons weight properly, and there's a filthy little rag doll tucked into the tourniquet as if he had found it and planned on keeping it as a souvenir for some reason. She's shocked when she's able to skirt around in front of him unnoticed and sees _human ears_ dangling from a shoe lace around his neck.

What was wrong with this man?

Still curious, she continues following him until he emerges from the woods, her inner humanity begging to see him home safely.

When he's out of the safety of the trees, she haults, watching breathlessly when she sees four male figures running their way.

She hears the injured man speak, watches in horror a moment later when a gunshot splits the silence and he falls to the ground with a heavy _thud._

Before she can stop herself, she's racing forward, cover blown, her worry for the stranger overriding her need to blend into the landscape.

The next thing she knows she's sitting on the front porch of the farmhouse, not long after, she's introducing herself to the man in charge.

"Is he okay?" she asks, feeling small and unsure of herself under the man's steady gaze.

"He's okay," the man, Rick, reassures her.

Strangely enough, they let her stay. And she's happy to stay. She's surprised at just how much she actually missed being around people. The woods had grown lonely and cold.

Still, she's fascinated by the man she had followed home. Daryl.

He's different from the rest of the group. There's something familiar about him. A kindred spirit so to speak.

Cheyenne doesn't know it now, but she will later. She's still putting the pieces together, filing the clues away in her mind for later analysis. She's been excepted. She has a new family. And that will have to do for now...


	10. The Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I hope I didn't mess up my facts too badly. I just started watching TWD during the back 8 of season 4 and got hooked, so I'm really trying hard to catch up! (thank goodness for marathons and DVR's!!) NOTE: Flashbacks are in italics

_"My heart would break without you. Might not awake without you..._

_...I'll keep on searching for an answer 'cause I need you more than dope..."_

-Lady Gaga, "Dope"

~*~

..."Where's Daryl?"

Cheyenne had jumped Rick and the others almost before they had made it inside the prison gates.

Rick sighed, running a hand through his hair, trying to think of an easy way of explaining the situation.

_*_

_"What about Cheyenne?" Rick had tried the last thing he knew to get Daryl to come back with them._

_Daryl looked at him sideways, refusing to meet his eyes. "She'll understand. Her an' Carol both will."_

_"Daryl---"_

_"Take care of 'er for me, Grimes." Daryl gave him a pointed look before shouldering his bow and stalking off with Merle._

_Rick felt his heart sinking as the two brothers disappeared into the woods._

_*_

"Where is he?" she demanded again, planting her feet firmly in front of the ex-lawman.

"Cheyenne, just calm down---"

"He's okay isn't he?!"

"He's fine," Rick stated, putting up a hand in a small gesture for peace. "He's with Merle."

"He'll be back later then?"

She looked at him so trustingly.

"No." He hung his head in shame.

Cheyenne took a slight step backwards, eyeing Rick keenly. "What do you mean? I thought you said he was okay..."

"We couldn't bring Merle back here!" Glenn suddenly piped up, pushing past Rick to look the distraught blonde in the eye. "He chose his brother over us."

Cheyenne's expression grew dark, her eyes narrowing into slits as she eyed the Korean accusingly. "You couldn't work somethin' out? You just let him go?"

"It's not what you think, Cheyenne," Rick stepped in once again, trying to keep everyone calm. "It was his choice---"

"Like fun it was his choice!" Cheyenne's eyes turned cold and murderous with fury, tone stern and deadly calm. "You didn't give him a choice. You _forced_ him out. You could'a brought them  _both_ back. We could'a worked somethin' out."

"We were _not_ letting Merle Dixon in here!" Glenn shouted at her. "Do you really want Merle in a cell next to yours?"

Cheyenne glared daggers at the Korean. Without a word she shouldered her compound bow, stalking off toward the nearest bolthole.

"Like I said...we could'a worked somethin' out."

"Cheyenne, hold up!" Rick jogged after the determined blonde, stepping in front of her and blocking her path. "Where you goin'?"

"I'm goin' out t' find him and bring 'im back."

"I can't let you do that..." Rick looked sad. - _"Take care of 'er for me, Grimes..."_ \- "We can't let you go out there alone like that. It ain't safe. The Governor's probably out there lookin' for us as we speak."

"Then come with me."

Her eyes silently begged him, pleaded with him to help her, to be on her side.

Rick shook his head. "I can't do that either..."

"Why not?" She looked angry again. "You lettin' Glenn take over and tell you what you can and can't do?"

"That's not what I'm sayin'..." Rick shook his head again, frustration, guilt, everything mounting up.

"Then what _are_ you sayin', Grimes?" Cheyenne got in his face, her rage nearly past the boiling point.

Rick backed away a bit, unable to answer and feeling even more miserable about the whole situation when she called him out.

"You're a coward, you know that?!" she spat the words out, cruel and cold, jabbing that invisible knife in and twisting it in his guts. "Now I am _GOING_ to go _FIND_ him."

"No you're not. You're gonna stay here where you belong, even if we have to lock you up," Glenn stepped in again, taking her by the arm.

"You get your hands off me!" Cheyenne outrightly screamed in his face, jerking her arm out of his grip and ignoring the wince he gave from the harsh movement.

"Cheyenne," Maggie tried to step in and soothe her. "It's over now. What's done is done."

"Don't touch me!" Cheyenne snarled, pushing away from Maggie's outstretched arms.

Before anyone could stop her, Cheyenne whirled, running off in the direction of the prison, a string of curses on the breeze behind her.

As soon as she was inside, she headed straight for Daryl's sleeping area on the landing. She found his poncho within seconds, and ran to her cell, the poncho hugged tightly to her chest as she curled up on her cot, the tears she had so valiantly fought back outside now streaming from her eyes.

Sobbing, she cuddled the poncho closer, inhaling Daryl's musky scent on the heavy fabric.

"Where are you?..." she whispered into thin air.

"You okay?" Rick asked gingerly, startling her.

She quickly sat up, finding the former leader standing in the doorway of her cell, eyeing her warily.

Quickly brushing her tears away, she answered. "I'm fine..."

"You sure?" Rick asked, sounding doubtful. When she didn't answer he slowly stepped into the cell, getting down on one knee in front of her bunk, resting a comforting hand on her thin shoulder. "It don't look like it t' me..."

She couldn't hold back her emotions any longer, and she was quickly wrapping her arms around Rick's neck, burying her face in the collar of his button-down.

"No...I'm not alright..."

As she cried, Rick held her, trying his best to comfort her, knowing that deep down, she hadn't meant what she'd said outside.

"I miss him, Rick..." she sobbed. "I want him back..."

"I know..." he soothed softly. "Me too..."...


	11. Tender Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor spoilers for 5x02. Nothing major though. Sorry it's so short.

...They sit on the floor of the church together, pressed against one another, Cheyenne tracing the star tattooed on his right hand with a feather-light touch. It's nice to be here, no worries, everyone together, eating, laughing, even boozing it up a little with the wine the odd preacher-man offered them.

Daryl gives the blonde the tinest of smiles as she trails her fingertip over his wrist. He turns his arm slightly, smiling a little more as she continues tracing his inks, circling the tiny heart on his inner wrist gently.

"Wish I could have one just like this..." she whispers softly against the shell of his ear, causing him to shiver slightly.

"Wouldn't wanna see that perfect complexion of yours all marked up like that..." he murmurs back, trying his best to be as gentle as she's being as he runs his finger up her arm, wrapping his index finger with a lock of her golden hair.

She smiles, snuggling into him a little closer, oblivious to the fact that Rick is grinning at them from his place on the floor with Judith as she kisses Daryl tenderly on the cheek, causing him to blush bright pink from his neck to the tip of his nose.

Everything is so perfect right now. If only they knew what lay in wait in the woods not far from their little refuge...


	12. Venus, Moon and Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh...Waiting on the new episode of TWD is torture! Sunday, hurry up!!

...Cheyenne didn't want to join the rough group of men. She didn't trust them, and she wasn't entirely sure Daryl did either.

She would follow Daryl to the ends of the earth if need be, and so, when he makes the decision for both of them and joins Joe and his rowdy bunch, she says nothing.

Just follows.

Because Daryl is her Venus, her sun, her moon and her stars. Whatever he says goes.

Without thought, she follows. He's her last hope in this new world of horror they now exist in. She loves him more than anything. And nothing, not even these men, are going to separate them. Not if she can help it. She can't lose him too. Not after Beth.

She just can't lose Daryl. He's the only light she sees now. The only hope of survival she has. Without him, she would be lost. There would be nothing left for her. She would see her end.

So she follows, does as he says. Ignores the lewd remarks from the Claimers and continues to keep her eyes open for any sign of their lost family.

Daryl and the hope of finding them is all she has left.

And it will have to be enough...


	13. Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set sometime during season 2 while the group is still at the farm, after walker-Sophia, before Randall.

...Cheyenne is fascinated by every part of Daryl Dixon.

His eyes are the first feature to draw her attention. They're so beautiful. So much emotion expressed in just one look. His eyes are absolutely captivating to her.

The second thing she notices about Daryl is the way he chews at the side of his thumb when he's nervous or stressed. Most would say it was a dirty, bad habit, a result of thumbsucking as a child, but strangely, Cheyenne found it quite adorable.

Thirdly, Cheyenne found Daryl's physique quite appealing. He was a well built man. Not as tall as her father -who had stood a handsome 6'3"- but an average height for a man.

He was quiet most of the time, hot-tempered at others, but strangely enough, -in her mind- everything about Daryl was alluring. Exciting and dangerous, yet gentle and reassuring.

On this particular day, she found herself watching him chop wood for the winter, corded muscles in his impressive biceps flexing in all the right ways, causing her mind to wander.

What would it be like to have those arms around her. Actually _in_ Daryl's arms. Wrapped up safe and secure.

Unconsciously, she wraps her arms about herself, reveling in the imaginary warmth that would radiate from those strong, masculine arms wrapped protectively about her small form.

"What's'a matter with you, girl?"

Daryl's rough voice to her left brings her out of her day dream and she's quickly lost the mental image of him holding her.

"You cold or somethin'?" he asks, squinting at her curiously.

Blushing with embarrassment, Cheyenne quickly jumps down from her perch on the wood pile. "N-no. I was just...thinkin'."

He grunts, tossing another piece of wood on the pile and going back to chopping with a muttered, "Don't think too hard, ya' might hurt yourself," tossed over his shoulder in her direction.

Cheeks still burning hot and bright pink, Cheyenne scampers off in the direction of Carol and Lori, deciding to help the other two women with laundry -even though she hates doing laundry- in the hope of forgetting Daryl and her fantasies about him for a little while.

_Get a hold of yourself, Carter,_ she mentally scolds herself.

"Are you alright, sweety?" Lori asks as Cheyenne approaches, wordlessly picking up a shirt and dunking it in the wash water, beginning to scrub furiously at the worn cotten.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Carol steps in. "Your face is beat red. Were you in the sun too long?"

"I'm fine," Cheyenne repeats, pushing a loose strand of hair from her ponytail back behind her ear with a soft sigh. "Really. I'm just...I'm just a little hot, that's all. Nothin' t' worry about."

The two women give her funny looks, but go ahead with their washing as Cheyenne dunks the shirt in the rinse water dismissively.

It isn't until she moves to hang the shirt on the line that she notices it's one of Daryl's, and she's quickly blushing again.

Out of all the dirty clothes, and all the group members, it had to be him...and those wonderful, sexy arms...


	14. Five Special Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very minor spoilers for 5x02. Slight canon-divergence, also nothing major. Just needed to write a little fluff today!

...They make their way outside, strolling through the church cemetery carelessly, the moon their only light sorce.

"You have beautiful eyes, Daryl," Cheyenne murmurs, smiling shyly at the hunter as he lifts her up by the waist, sitting her up on a high head stone. "They're even more beautiful in the moonlight."

"Naw..." he disagrees, barely able to meet her eyes. He's just as shy as she is, maybe more. "Your's are prettier."

Daryl places his hands on either side of the stone, arms braced protectively on either side of her thighs, looking up at her with a hesitant smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Cheyenne loves it when he smiles. It's not often that Daryl smiles, but when he does, it makes it all the more meaningful.

Leaning forward, she carefully drapes her arms over his broad shoulders, kissing him on the tip of his nose as he looks up, slightly startled by her warm breath on his face.

"What's that for?" he asks, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"One on the tip of your nose, to show you that I think you're cute," Cheyenne explains, giggling when he scrunches his nose at her.

"Ain't cute..." he grumbles, but he isn't upset, just embarrassed by her words.

She moves on, ignoring his words and kissing his cheek before continuing. "One on your cheek, to show you that you're special to me."

Reaching down by her side, she takes his hands, spreading his fingers out and kissing the tip of each digit carefully, still smiling as he looks on in confusion at the display of affection.

"One on each of your fingertips, because I love the way you touch me."

Next, she reaches up, placing both hands on either side of his face before brushing his overly long hair out of his eyes and pulling his head down toward her mouth, kissing his forehead lightly.

"One on your forehead, because I love the way you lay your head on my shoulder when nobody's lookin' and you're sleepy."

Finally, she places her hands on either side of his face again, his breath warm on her face as he leans his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as he soaks up the attention silently.

"Fifth and finally, one right here, on your lips, to let you know I love you..."

And with that said, Cheyenne gently presses her lips to his, kissing him long and deep before pulling away so they can breathe.

Daryl quietly wraps one arm around her, resting his chin on her head and taking her right hand in his left, holding it to his heart as he whispers a barely audible, but just as meaningful, "I love you, too..." against her hair...


	15. Holding Us Back ('Still' part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again stealing scenes...And still having no regrets!! :)  
> This chapter is set during 4x12 "Still" and will probably be a two-parter. Enjoy!

..."So first, I say somethin' I've never done, and if you _have_ done it, you drink. And if you haven't, I drink. Then we switch." Beth explained the game carefully, looking excited.

Daryl didn't answer.

Cheyenne just rolled her eyes. Beth was _really_ getting on her nerves for some reason, and it was becoming extremely annoying listening to her childish ideas on how to pass the time. She couldn't believe Daryl was joining in on her little drinking game.

"You really don't know this game?" Beth asked curiously.

"I ain't never needed a game t' get lit before," Daryl shrugged.

"Wait...are we startin'?" Beth asked stupidly. She was _already_ 'lit' as Daryl had put it.

"How do you know this game?" Daryl asked suspiciously, eyeing the girl carefully for any lies.

"My friends played it, I watched," Beth shook her head slightly. "Okay. I'll start. I've never...shot a crossbow. So, now you drink."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Ain't much of a game."

"That was a warm up!" Beth argued playfully. "Now you go."

Daryl hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He sighed, "I don't know..."

"Just say the first thing that pops into your head."

"I've never been outta Georgia," Daryl spoke up suddenly, glancing up at Beth before his eyes fell on his glass once again. As if he were ashamed.

"Really?" Beth asked, interested. "Okay. Good one."

"I've never..." she thought for a moment. "Been drunk and did somethin' I regretted."

Daryl took a drink, looking ashamed again. "I done a'lot'a things."

"C'mon, Cheyenne! Come play with us!" Beth suddenly turned on the other blonde with a grin.

"No," Cheyenne said, tone serious as she glanced over her shoulder at the pair on the floor, her attention back on the window a moment later. "Somebody's gotta keep watch. And it's gotta be me...now."

Beth shrugged and went back to the game, both she and Daryl oblivious to the pointed look Cheyenne gave Daryl. "Your turn."

"I never been on vacation," Daryl said quietly, fiddling with his jar of moonshine.

"What about campin'?"

"Naw...that was just somethin' I had t' learn," Daryl shook his head slightly as he explained. "T' hunt."

"Your dad teach you?" Beth pried.

Daryl hummed the affirmative low in his throat.

"Okay."

She took another drink.

"What about you, Cheyenne?" Beth turned to her again. "What have you never done?"

"I've never shot a crossbow. Happy? I already told you once I wasn't gettin' in on your stupid little game, so stop buggin' me about it!"

It came out a growl, and she thought she saw Beth scrunch her nose at her harshness. But she knew someone had to stay sober, someone had to keep watch. And that someone was her.

"Okay, okay," Beth backed off, turning back to Daryl a moment later with a roll of her eyes.

Cheyenne shook her head slightly to herself, attention back on the dirty window and the woods beyond the tiny, overgrown yard.

"I've never..." Beth thought for a moment, continuing the game without a care. "Been in jail."

Cheyenne looked up, glancing uneasily at Daryl and then Beth. He had also looked up, and Cheyenne could tell he wasn't happy.

A look of hurt and betrayal crossed his rugged features for the briefest of moments, and then it was gone as he gave Beth a steely glare.

"I mean, as a prisoner," Beth added hastily, trying to fix her offencive blunder. But it didn't help it one bit.

He didn't answer for a long moment. His gaze somewhere between anger and hurt as he stared at the teen for what seemed like a century.

Finally, he spoke, voice raspy and cold. " 's that what you think o' me?"

"I didn't mean anything serious, I just thought, you know, like the drunk tank." Beth seemed to regret the question as she squirmed in place. "Even my dad got locked up for that...back in the day."

"Drink up," Daryl gestured at her glass, still looking peeved.

"Wait! Prison guard!" Beth said jokingly, still trying to fix her slip up. "Were you a prison guard before?"

Daryl stared at her coldly. "No."

"It's...your turn again," Beth pointed out hesitantly, trying to change the subject.

Daryl got up with a grunt, sauntering across the room. "Imma take a piss."

As he made his way across the room, he slammed his whiskey jar to the floor, smashing it as he made his way over to the corner.

"You have t' be quiet!" Beth said hurridly, her regret beginning to show clearly as she looked up at Cheyenne, eyes pleading for the other girl to help her.

Cheyenne wasn't looking at Beth. She was staring at Daryl's wing-decaled back intently, on high alert as the tension in the room grew, flinching slightly when he raised his voice a notch, snarling at the teen angrily.

"Can't hear ya'! I'm takin' a piss!"

"Daryl don't talk so loud!" Beth begged.

"What? Are you my chaperone now?" Daryl asked, glaring over his shoulder at Beth.

Cheyenne kept quiet, not wanting to get involved if she didn't have to. She had been in similar situations before the turn, and she didn't want to repeat history. Not with Daryl. She didn't want to be subject to that side of him. She had thought he was better than all of that.

Beth fell silent, head bowed, refusing to watch him.

"Oh, wait, it's my turn, right?"

He zipped his pants, turning around as he buckled his belt.

"I never, uhhh...Never eaten frozen yogurt!" he snarled, looking peeved that Beth refused to look at him. "Never had a pet pony! Never got nothin' from Santa Claus!"

He smacked at a chair, almost knocking it over as he stomped his foot angrily.

Cheyenne was frightened. He was really angry. She had never seen him this upset before.

He stomped across the room, still ranting angrily. "Never relied on anyone for protection before. Hah! I don't think I've ever relied on anyone for _anything!"_

"Daryl..." Cheyenne murmured softly, understanding overriding her fears as she suddenly felt sympathy for the raging hunter.

"Never sang out in front of a big group out in public like everythin' was fun. Like everything was a big game." -He took a threatening step toward Beth, ignoring Cheyenne's soft, unfinished plea- "I sure as hell never cut my wrist lookin' for attention!" He drug his thumb over his wrist in empahsis as he spat the words at the teen.

With every sentence, he took another step toward Beth, getting in her face more and more. The walker outside started making a ruckus once again, and Daryl became more agitated, kicking a pan acrossed the room and grabbing his crossbow.

"Sounds like our friend out there tryin' t' call over his buddies!"

"Daryl!" Cheyenne finally broke in, glaring daggers at him, her sympathy suddenly gone. "Shut. Up."

"Hey! You never shot a crossbow before?" -he pointed at Cheyenne, ignoring her warning- "I'm gonna teach ya' right now!"

His hand shot out, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her out the front door roughly.

"C'mon! It's gonna be fun!"

"We should stay inside!" Beth cried as Daryl drug the older girl outside, watching helplessly as Cheyenne tried to twist out of his grip. Beth quickly followed them outside. "Daryl! Cut it out! Daryl!"

"Dumbass!" Daryl snarled at the hissing walker, raising his crossbow and bracing himself, firing at the walker. "C'mere dumbass!"

The bolt drove itself through the walkers left shoulder, pinning the rotting corpse to the tree beside the house.

Daryl quickly re-loaded the crossbow, turning to Cheyenne. "You wanna shoot?"

"I-I don't know how!" Cheyenne stammered in shock and fear of what he might do to her, stumbling a little as he strode determinedly toward her.

Daryl grabbed her by the shoulder, spinning her around to face the walker with him. "It's easy. C'mere!"

She fought against him as he wrapped his arm around her, muscles flexing against her collar bone as he tightened his grip on her, forcing her to stand there with him as he aimed the crossbow with one arm. He shot the bolt into the walker's torso, growling a quick, "Right corner," to himself. As if he were playing pool.

"Let's practice later!" Cheyenne cried as he released her to re-load.

"C'mon. It's fun."

"Just stop it, Daryl!"

"C'mere!" He grabbed her again, grip tightening around her neck and shoulders as he took aim one-armed again.

She squirmed, trying vainly to get out of his vice-like grip. "Daryl, you're hurting me! DARYL!!"

He ignored her, still towing her along by the throat as he re-positioned himself at a different angle, firing a third bolt into the rotting corpse. "Eight ball."

"Just kill it!" Beth cried from the porch.

"C'mere, Carter! Let's pull these out, get a lil' more target practice."

Finally, he released her, advancing on the walker in his fit of rage.

When he released her, she immediately stormed over to the walker ahead of him, stabbing it through the eye and efficiently killing it.

"What the hell'd ya' do that for? We was havin' fun!" he shouted sarcasticly at her as she whirled around to face him, fed up with his shit.

"No, _we_ ain't!!" Cheyenne yelled at him in retort. "If anyone found any of the other group members---"

"Don't!" He cut her off. "It's not even remotely the same!"

"Killing them is not 'sposed t' be fun!" she cried. "You're a real mean drunk, you know that?!"

"What do you want from me girl?!" he shouted in her face, getting in her personal space. "Huh?!!"

"I want ya' t' stop actin' like you don't give a crap about _anythin!_ Like nothin' we went through matters! Like none of the people we lost meant anything to you! It's bull!!" she screamed at him.

" 's that what you think?..." his tone dropped an octave, but he was still backing her into a corner, advancing on her slowly, his rage close to the surface and ready to boil over.

"That's what I know."

"You don't know nothin'," he hissed threateningly.

"I know you look at me and you see another abused little girl who ain't worth shit! I'm not Michonne, I'm not Carol, and I'm not Maggie! I've survived more than just this shitstorm we call life now, and you don't get it 'cause I'm not like you or them! I made it out! And you don't get t' treat me like crap just because you're...afraid!"

His voice was low and menacing as he got in her face again. "I ain't afraid'a nothin'."

"I remember...when that little girl came outta the barn, behind Beth's mom...You were like me. And now, Heaven forbid you ever let anybody get too close."

"Too close, huh? You know all about that! Beth lost two boyfriends, she can't even shed a tear! Her whole family's gone, all she can do is go out lookin' for hooch like some dumb college bitch!"

"This ain't about her!" Cheyenne shouted, tone dropping as she took a step back, face contorting in disgust. "Screw you. You don't get it."

"No, you don't get it!" He was quickly in her face again, blue eyes flashing with wild anger. "Everyone we know's dead!!"

"You don't know that!!" Beth cried from the front porch.

"Beth, stay outta this!" Cheyenne growled, hoping Beth understood that she was just trying to protect her. She wasn't sure how far Daryl was willing to take the situation in his whiskey induced rage.

"Might as well be, cause you ain't never gonna see 'em again!" He took a step toward the porch threateningly, glaring up at Beth.

Cheyenne stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "Don't."

Beth was crying, Cheyenne felt tears of her own sting at the back of her eyes, threatening to fall as Daryl whirled away from her.

"Rick...You ain't never gonna see Maggie again!" he yelled at Beth.

"Just stop!" Cheyenne tried to calm him, the mention of Rick's name not going unnoticed by the blonde as she tried to touch his arm.

"No!" he shouted, slapping at a low branch on the tree, turning his back on her. "The Governor rolled right up t' our gates...Maybe if I wou-wouldn't'a stopped lookin'...maybe 'cause I gave up, that's on me!!"

His voice was full of emotion as he whirled around to face her again, the fire in his eyes dimming.

"Daryl..." Cheyenne moved toward him again, hearing the sorrow in his voice as it broke. She touched his arm gently, but he jerked away, a soft whimper escaping his throat.

After all they had been through, he was still trying to play the tough guy.

"Her dad...Maybe..maybe I could'a done somethin'..." His voice trailed off as he broke down with emotion. A sob catching in his throat, his shoulders shaking as he tried desperately to hide his tears from the girl behind him.

How could she be so dence? How did she not see it? Daryl felt responsible for all the death, the separation.

Before he could move away again, she latched on to him from behind, wrapping her arms around his torso and resting her cheek against his shoulder, hugging him tightly from behind.

He was tence for a moment, but finally, he relaxed into her embrace, his shoulders sagging as he began to sob. Shaking with his grief.

She stayed behind him, clinging to him as they both sobbed. Beth still waiting on the porch and crying as well.

Cheyenne could feel the scared little boy coming out of Daryl as he cried with her. Actually cried. He wasn't the hardened, hot-headed walker slaying badass he wanted everyone to think...He did have a heart. And it was shattered into a million pieces...


	16. Snow Angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's snowing here in PA, and I've been re-watching season 2. I got a little inspired! Enjoy! :)
> 
> (Set during the winter between season 2 and 3)

...It's snowing, the world looking very much like a life-size snow globe as Daryl makes his way out of the woods and toward the little house they've secured, a few scrawny rabbits strung over his shoulder.

He's greeted with the sight of Carl and Cheyenne bounding about playfully in the front yard, Beth giggling from the front step at how silly they look.

It's odd to see a girl Cheyenne's age playing about like a child as she chases Carl around in a circle.

A distant memory of playing this game with Mama while Merle was at school and Daddy was away on a bender has Daryl smiling slightly in spite of himself. It's one of his few fond memories of childhood, and he's surprised at how child-like Cheyenne herself looks as she swoops in, grabbing the boy from behind with a squeal as Carl laughs uncontrollably.

The scene reminds him so much of his Mama and him, and he sniffles slightly in spite of himself, shaking his head slightly in an attempt to clear that thought from his mind.

He focuses on the game, determining that it's the simpler version of fox and goose, made up of a single, wide circle stamped into the snow by booted feet with one diagonal path through the center to allow the 'fox' -or the 'goose' for that matter- a shortcut or an escape route.

He stands back and watches for a moment as Carl takes chase, running after the girl as she darts around the circle like a pro, dodging down the cut path away from the boy with a laugh.

"C'mon, Carl! You can do it! Get her!!" Beth cheers from the porch as Carl gains on the older girl.

Daryl knows she's letting him win. She could outrun the kid any day, but had enough common sense and compassion to know that it would be a slap to his ego's face if he were beaten by a girl.

Carl plows into her as she slows her pace a bit, and she quickly tackles him to the ground, rolling in the snow and laughing.

"I'm not goin' down without a fight!!"

Daryl stays back and watches as the pair wrestle each other, memories of sloppily built snowmen and snow angels flooding his thoughts as he watches.

Finally, Cheyenne looks up and notices him, getting to her feet with an embarrassed little laugh, her cheeks flushing redder than the cold and exertion is causing them to be as he approaches them.

"What, no snow angels?" he questions as he passes the pair, a smirk twitching at the corners of his lips when she blushes again.

Daryl won't admit it, but he likes the idea of calling Cheyenne a little snow angel. He wants to call her _his_ little snow angel, but refrains. Maybe someday. But not right now, he's not ready yet.

"Hey, Daryl!" Carl snickers, and he turns just in time to receive a well-aimed snowball right in the middle of his rear, causing him to jump from the cold in that particular area.

Cheyenne had managed to circle around on him, pelting him with the icy white stuff as a joke.

"Hey!" he cries, dropping his crossbow on one of the car hoods and handing his string of rabbits off to Beth in mock anger, Beth laughing hysterically at the scene unfolding before her.

He bends, quickly packing a snowball in his bare hands as Cheyenne and Carl run to take cover from the retaliating hunter, laughing hysterically as they do so.

"This means war you little shits!!" Daryl hollers as a rain of snowballs come flying his way.

It may be the apocalypse, but nobody said they couldn't have fun...


	17. The Last Of Us... ('Still' part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!!! This chapter contains mentions of past abuse and rape/non-con elements!! You have been warned!!

...Darkness fell. Cheyenne and Daryl had stayed there by that tree until dark before they had finally cried their last tears. Both of them exhausted from sobbing. They went back to the porch, finding Beth waiting for them, a jar of moonshine still clutched in her hand, tipsy and hopeful for company.

"My step-dad...he was a piece of work," Cheyenne said quietly, suddenly feeling the need to share her past with her comrades. "My real dad, he was a Marine. My mom was a nurse. Dad got killed when I was 10. Me and Mom were alone for a while..."

Daryl sat there, gazing at her quietly, listening and not judging. Curiosity glimmering in his sad eyes as Cheyenne took in a shakey breath, preparing to continue.

"Then she met my step-dad, married him. I wasn't too happy, but since Mom was...I tried to make it work. He even adopted me," -She sighed, expression growing dark- "He was okay at first...But then mom...she died...i-in a car crash when I was 15...and..."

Daryl cleared his throat uncomfortably as she trailed off, giving her a worried look as she swiped at a few stray tears.

"He started drinkin'...beatin' on me..."

Beth looked sad, eyes downcast.

"Then it started..." Cheyenne rubbed furiously at her eyes, trying to hide her tears. "Every night it was the same thing...Beatin' me...rape...I never told no one. I was too scared. I tried t' run away a couple times...but he found me and brought me back every time. Then this started, this nightmare, and I finally got away from the bastard."

Neither of her companions said a word.

Daryl quietly reached over, subtly taking Cheyenne's hand into his, giving it a comforting squeeze to let her know he understood. A rarity for him to try to show comfort.

They sat there in silence for a little while, each lost in their own thoughts and memories as they enjoyed the coolness of the evening.

"I get why my dad stopped drinkin'..." Beth suddenly spoke up as they all sat there, watching the stars and the moon rise in the night sky.

"You feel sick?" Daryl asked.

"Nope. I wish I could feel like this all the time," she giggled softly. "That's bad."

Cheyenne smiled a little at that, Daryl smirking as well.

"You're lucky you're a happy drunk," Daryl pointed out gently.

"Yeah, I'm lucky," Beth murmured in agreement. "Some people can be real jerks when they drink."

Cheyenne nodded, shivering slightly when a memory of her step-dad suddenly flashed through her minds eye.

"Yeah...I'm a dick when I'm drunk," Daryl said with a little smile, digging the tip of his knife into a support beam as he continued, tone softer than usual. "Merle had this dealer, this jankie little white guy...tweeker...One day we were over at his house, watchin' TV. Wasn't even noon yet, we were all wasted. Merle was high. We were watchin' this show, an' Merle was talkin' all this dumb stuff about it an' he wouldn't let up...Merle never could..."

He paused, as if the thought of his brother was painful, and Cheyenne squeezed his hand gently, just like he had with her.

"Turns out, it was the tweeker's kids' favorite show, an' he never sees his kids, so...I don't know...He felt guilty about it or somethin'. So he punches Merle in the face, so I started hittin' the tweeker, like, hard. Hard as I can. Then he-he pulls a gun, sticks it right here," -he pointed to his temple, fingers positioned to look like a gun- "And says, 'I'm gonna kill you bitch!'. So Merle pulls his gun on him, everyone's yellin', I'm yellin'...I thought I was dead...over a dumb cartoon about a talkin' dog."

"How'd ya' get out of it?" Cheyenne asked, hoping he would finish.

He smiled slightly to himself, remembering the moment before continuing. "Tweeker punched me in the gut, I puked, they both started laughin'...Forgot all about it."

Daryl suddenly became serious again, glancing at Cheyenne before his gaze fell on Beth, a small frown appearing on his lips.

"You wanna know where I was before all of this?"

Cheyenne looked up at him, interested. She was curious, but hadn't yet resorted to prying like Beth had.

"I was just driftin' with Merle. Doin' whatever he said we were gonna be doin' that day." He bowed his head as if in shame. "Nobody...nothin'...Just some redneck asshole with an even bigger asshole for a brother..."

"You're not an asshole, Daryl..." Cheyenne whispered, leaning against him slightly as he shifted a bit closer.

"You miss him, don't you?" Beth asked.

Daryl didn't reply, but both girls knew the answer.

"I miss Maggie," Beth continued after a beat. "I miss her bossin' me around," -she giggled- "I miss my big brother Shaun...He was so annoying and over-protective. And my dad. I thought...I hoped he'd just live the rest of his life in peace, you know?"

Cheyenne felt Daryl tence slightly then relax as she snuggled a bit closer, shivering slightly with the chill of the evening.

"I thought Maggie and Glenn would have a baby, and he'd get to be a grandpa, and have birthday's and holidays, and some picnics...And he'd get really old...and it'd happen...but...it'd be quiet. It'd be okay. He'd be surrounded by people he loved."

Tears glistened in Beth's eyes as Cheyenne tried to hold back her own tears, Daryl shifting against her once again as if he were uncomfortable.

"That's how unbelievably stupid I am!" She took another drink of her whiskey with a shakey breath, her bitter sadness evident.

"That's how it's 'sposed t' be..." Daryl spoke up reassuringly.

"I wish I could just...change..." Beth said, gazing up at the stars, her tears forgotten.

"You did," Daryl reassured once again.

"Not enough...Not like you. It's like...you were made for how things are now."

"I'm just used t' this..." he said softly, head bowed. "Things bein' ugly, grownin' up in a place like this."

"But you got away from it," Cheyenne added positively.

"I didn't."

"You did."

"Maybe you gotta keep on remindin' me sometimes..." he smiled at her a little.

"No," Beth broke in. "You can't depend on anyone for anything, right? I'll be gone someday..."

"Stop," Daryl cut the teen off.

"I will. You're gonna be the last man standin'..." Beth said, gazing at the man in front of her before her attention fell on Cheyenne. "And you're gonna be right next to him."

Cheyenne and Daryl looked at each other, then turned away, embarrassed.

"You are!" Beth insisted, her tone softened as she leaned back against the railing post, smiling sadly. "You're gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone Daryl Dixon."

"You ain't a happy drunk at all," Daryl muttered, looking away from her.

"Yeah, I'm happy, I'm just not blind. You gotta stay who you are. Both of you. Not who you were..." Beth bowed her head slightly, thinking. "Places like this...you have to put it away."

"What if ya' can't?" Daryl questioned.

"You have to," -Beth insisted, shaking her head- "Or it...kills you...Here," she pointed to her heart.

"We should go inside..." Daryl suggested out of the blue, trying to change the somber subject.

Cheyenne nodded slightly in agreement.

"We should burn it down," Beth gave them a goofy grin, giggling.

Daryl got up, pulling Cheyenne to her feet with him. Taking Beth's jar of moonshine, he studied it for a moment as if deep in thought, then finally turned to both girls.

"We're gonna need more booze..."

The girls looked at each other and grinned, following Daryl inside to collect the crate of moonshine.

~*~

The three spent the next ten minutes opening jars and bottles and flinging the liquid all over the house. Smashing the glass as they emptied them.

They finished up, Daryl and Cheyenne getting their supplies together, Daryl flinging the last bottle into the living room and watching as it smashed on the hard wood floor.

He took the last mason jar, dumping the contents on the porch as the three of them walked out, making their way down the rickety steps.

"You wanna?" he held out a box of matches to Beth.

"Hell yeah!" she smiled, taking it willingly.

He quickly pulled out two of the stacks of money he had taken from the country club, handing one to Cheyenne and keeping one for himself.

Beth lit the paper, and the two quickly hurled the burning cash into the liquor-soaked house, the porch and living room catching on fire almost instantly.

They gathered up their things, Daryl flinging one last mason jar they had missed into the burning house and they watched the house burn from a short distance away, happy with their work.

Beth suddenly flipped the burning house off, then nudged Daryl, urging him to do the same.

Cheyenne rolled her eyes as Beth silently urged her to do the same, following suit and raising her middle finger.

It was a silent "F-you" to their bad memories.

As the roof caved in, Daryl gave Beth a slight push, signaling it was time to leave. There were walkers approaching, most likely attracted by the light from the flames. He placed his hand on Cheyenne's back, gently signaling her as well.

She smiled up at him, feeling how gentle he was now. This was the Daryl she knew and loved. This was the Daryl she had feelings for.

The threesome headed off into the woods, unsure of what lay ahead of them. Anything was better than this place. And maybe, just maybe, if they kept their hopes up and kept praying, they just might find the others. Somewhere safe. Somewhere they could call home...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long, boring chapter. I really liked this episode, so I had to write about it. I'm not totally satisfied with this, so there may be a little editing later on. Not sure. Hope you enjoyed!! :)


	18. Claimed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A scene from 4x15 'Us'. Minor spoilers for the episode.  
> Be warned, one f-bomb does appear in this chapter.

...Cheyenne and Daryl stood back, watching silently as their new travelling companions pried open the garage door, it's rusty tracks screeching agrivatingly as the door slid open.

Four of the men hurridly rushed in, weapons raised, ready for anything that may be lurking within the gloomy depths.

Cheyenne glanced around uneasily. Not at all looking forward to spending another night with these men. Daryl gave her a light nudge, breaking her train of thought, and she quickly stepped aside, allowing him to close the heavy sliding door.

They stood back, watching the men as they looked around the building.

"They ain't here," one spoke up as Daryl moved over to an abandoned car, laying his crossbow down on the hood and dropping their shared garbage bag of supplies on the floor by the flat tire.

Cheyenne followed his action, placing her compound beside his bow on the hood before loosing her hair, re-braiding it after running her fingers through the tangled, wavey strands.

"Nobody's been here for a while," the one called Tony said matter-of-factly. "Whoever was, they got all the gas."

"That don't matter," Joe said, turning his back to the man. "We're gettin' closer, I can feel it."

Daryl seemed to be ignoring the conversation as he pulled the tarp off of the car, Cheyenne leaning against the hood wearily a moment later.

"Claimed," one of the men called out, kicking their bag away from the car and giving the pair a nasty grin.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow, Cheyenne following suit and picking hers up as he gently touched her arm, bending and picking up their supplies.

The men walked around, each calling out 'claimed' every few moments as they chose an abandoned car or truck to sleep in. Daryl and Cheyenne stood back, each looking about for somewhere to sleep, refusing to 'claim' anything.

When all of the men seemed to be occupied with settling in for the night, Daryl steered Cheyenne toward a white pickup, the last unoccupied vehicle left.

Just as they were about to toss their things in the bed, Len surged forward, throwing his bedroll into the truck bed and giving them a sassy looking little smirk, growling, "Claimed" with a little shrug.

With a huff of irritation, Daryl dropped their garbage bag of supplies and stretched out on his back on the concrete floor, Cheyenne lying down a few inches away from him, both too tired to start an arguement with the rough men.

Len was still glaring at them, particularly Daryl.

The hunter ignored the scrawny bastard, simply resting his head on the bag and draping his arm over his face, eyes burried in the crook of his arm.

"Hey, girly," Len came over a moment later, squatting down beside Cheyenne. "How 'bout you comin' over with me? I got a nice, comfy place for the night."

"Fuck off." Cheyenne glared at him, slowly pushing herself back, inching closer and closer to Daryl. She was frightened now. Could they 'claim' her like they had everything else today?

"Aw, c'mon," Len persisted, grinning evily at her before grabbing her by the arm, pulling her into a sitting position. "We could have us some _real_ fun."

"Claimed," a gruff voice behind her snarled.

Cheyenne inwardly sighed with relief. It was Daryl. If their stupid rules applied to this situation, she was his. She belonged to Daryl. No one else could touch her.

An indescribable feeling of pride and joy suddenly welled up inside her as the other man looked up, anger flashing in his cold brown eyes.

Len glared at Daryl, straightening quickly, releasing her arm in his haste. "You say somethin' dumbass?"

"Claimed," Daryl repeated a little louder, tone stern and deadly calm as he propped himself up on his elbow lazily, as if he hadn't a care in the world. "She's mine."

Cheyenne felt a chill run down her spine at his words. How she had longed to be his from day one. Even though he was only doing this to protect her, she was still grateful. Honored even to be marked as his.

Slowly, she slid closer to him, both settling back down, neither taking their eyes off of Len as he glared threateningly down at them.

On impulse, she gave the dirty hick a gloating little smirk as Daryl reached over her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him, hugging her tight against his chest.

She was his. She couldn't stop thinking about it. An inexplicable feeling of happiness taking over her heart. Maybe this whole claiming rule wasn't so bad after all. It sure had saved her ass in a hurry.

Daryl gave her a comforting little squeeze as he sighed, relaxing as Len stalked off to his 'claimed' sleeping area. He was already falling asleep. The pull of exhaustion too much as her warmth against him soothed his uneasiness.

Cheyenne smiled a little to herself. Heaven knew he needed the rest. She would watch over him, protect him through the night, just as he was doing for her. With every ounce of fight she had left, she would keep him safe, whether it be from these roughians or walkers, she didn't care.

Resting her head on her arm, Cheyenne reveled in the warmth radiating from Daryl's body, still flush with hers, his arm still draped protectively around her waist. She closed her eyes tightly, not wanting _anything_ to spoil this moment with him. She had even momentarily forgotten about Beth.

"Thank you..." she whispered, more to herself and the Almighty than anyone.

"Hmmm..." Daryl mumbled sleepily, warm breath ruffling the loose strands of hair that had escaped her braid and ghosting over her cheek as he nuzzled at her nape in his half-asleep state.

"Nothin'...just go t' sleep..." she whispered, snuggling against his chest a little tighter when he sighed, breathing evening out and signaling that he had done just that.

Cheyenne fell asleep with a faint smile on her lips, dreaming of better days, and a world with Daryl in her life forever...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many more chapters should I add to this? Drop me a line and let me know! :)


	19. Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for 5x06 "Consumed", inspiration: Demons by Imagine Dragons. This song fits Daryl quite well.

... _Treating Survivors Of Childhood Abuse: Psychotherapy For The Interrupted Life._ That's what the book title had read.

Cheyenne wasn't stupid. She had seen Daryl's scars, witnessed the flinches when someone's hand made unexpected contact with his arm or shoulder, and Daryl himself had more or less told her and Beth how his life had been before the dead rose up to gorge on human flesh. It didn't take a genius to read between the lines.

It was the title. To see the words in print. Watch as the book fell out of his bag. That's what had forced it all to register in all it's ugly truth. And Cheyenne probably understood better than anyone else.

Carol had been angry, upset that Daryl hadn't trusted her when she pulled her gun and tried to shoot the kid who had robbed them of their weapons.

"I was aiming for his _leg!_ "

"He's just a damn kid."

Cheyenne had stayed out of it. She agreed with Daryl, but she also agreed with Carol. All they had now were their knives and one gun with three shots left. Not much if a herd made an appearance.

Daryl seemed to ignore Carol as he pried at a locked door with his knife. She vented behind him, taking a step back when he whirled around to face her, crying out in an almost pleading tone.

"We're not out there! We're right here! _Tryin'..._ "

Trying. Somehow, that one word had so much more meaning behind it than it had before.

At first, she had thought he meant just surviving, dealing with what the world threw at them _now,_ and she felt stupid for not catching it last night at the shelter.

Daryl was hurting inside more than he had for a while. Whether it was losing the prison, or Beth, the Claimers' attack on their family, or almost losing everyone at Terminus that triggered his sudden change of heart, his will to heal, she didn't know. But something had caused his inner demons to start nagging at him, festering until he was nearly at the breaking point. Something made him want to try harder. Forget the past, hold on to the present. Heal.

Trying.

It was such a simple word.

How could she be so blind?

Finally, Daryl got the door pried open, turning just in time to watch Carol bend down and angrily retrieve his discarded bag, accidentally dumping out some of the contents in her haste.

Cheyenne's eyes landed on the book the moment it hit the floor, a pencil and a pink highlighter rolling out with it. Seeing it here and now, it really didn't surprise her. If anything, it made her guilt even stronger.

Carol's expression shifted from angry to surprised as her eyes landed on the book, digesting the weight of the text on the cover as something akin to sadness crept into her eyes.

Daryl snatched up the book before either woman could utter a word, glaring at Carol as he took his bag from her, stuffing the book inside hastily before turning to the open doorway and striding through it.

"C'mon," he growled low, hurt and something on the order of shame evident in his eyes as he turned his back to them.

Cheyenne followed him without a word, promising herself that somehow, some way, she would help Daryl. Try with him. Maybe between the two of them, they could heal together.

If there was one thing Cheyenne knew about the mental trauma she herself had suffered and guessed Daryl had by some of his comments over the time she had grown to know and love him, there was no way of healing alone.

You needed someone to help you. Someone to help make those dark days a little brighter, keep you going. And she planned on being there for Daryl, no matter what.

She would never leave him alone to ward off his demons. She would fight alongside him for as long as it took...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really happy with this chapter, but oh, well. I've thought or said that about others, and they've went over better than most. Hope you enjoyed! :)


	20. The Parting Glass...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING* MAJOR SPOILERS for 5x08 "Coda". DO NOT read this if you haven't seen the episode yet...unless you're a sick-o like me who actually LIKES spoilers.

...The gunshot was unexpected. Daryl surged forward as Dawn plead for her life, a pair of scissors in her shoulder, curtesy Beth Greene's final act of retaliation.

The group stood in stunned horror as the scene unfolded before them. Beth lay there at their feet. Blood pooling around her. Blood and gore staining her blonde hair in all it's sickening horror.

Dawn went down a moment later, Daryl ending her with a single bullet to the skull.

"No! Hold your fire!" Officer Shepherd cried to her comrades, holding her arms out as the group raised their weapons on the so called "police officers" of Grady Memorial. "It's over. It was just about her."

Her attention fell on Dawn's lifeless body as the other's continued to standoff against each other in tence silence.

"Stand. Down."

Finally, the others obeyed the order, lowering their weapons grudgingly.

Daryl's arm trembled as he slowly lowered his gun, a helpless whimper escaping his throat as he stared in stunned horror at Beth's limp form. He turned, face contorting as tears threatened to spill over, a sob catching in his throat.

Carol gently placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort the hunter as Cheyenne stepped forward next, grabbing his arm, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably, hugging the trembling, sobbing man's limb as tightly as she could. Trying to comfort herself and the man she loved in the only way she knew how.

"You can stay..." Shepherd offered gently.

"We're surviving here," a doctor piped up. "It's better than out there."

"No." Rick declined for the group, trying to hide his tears as he spoke, voice rough with emotion. "An' I'm takin' anyone back there who wants t' leave," -he motioned slightly toward the strangers- "if you wanna come with us...step forward now."

No one did. Probably for the best. It was time to leave.

A few moments later, the group emerged from the hospital, Rick in the lead followed by Sasha, Tyreese helping Carol walk.

Outside, they were greeted by Michonne, Glenn, Maggie, Rosita, Ford and Tara, all looking worried and confused.

Maggie fell to the ground screaming and sobbing a moment later as Daryl, carrying Beth's lifeless body, exited the hospital, tears still coursing down his face.

Cheyenne trailed along beside him, Noah shadowing them as they approached the traumatized group.

Failing miserably at keeping it together, Cheyenne fell apart along with Daryl. With a sob, she grabbed the back of Daryl's vest when he stopped in front of Glenn and Maggie, too overwhelmed with her own emotions and Daryl's display of emotional agony to even care anymore. She needed something, someone to hold on to.

The hurt and absolute heartbreak they were all feeling doubled tenfold at the sound of Maggie's anguished cries.

Beth was gone. Nothing was bringing her back.

The sun slowly slipped behind a bank of gray clouds, as if to say _I feel your pain._

The only comfort Cheyenne could find in the situation was the thought of Hershel, arms open wide and welcoming his baby daughter as she entered the endless bliss of Heaven and happiness. A place where there would be no more sorrow, no more pain. She was with her daddy and the angels, and Cheyenne tried to keep that tiny shred of a happy thought in her mind as she gripped the back of Daryl's vest, feeling his trembling, adding to it with her own.

Beth was gone, and at that moment, it seemed every bit of light, any hope they had left, was gone forever. Lost in the dark sea of mourning for all eternity...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Beth. Hope this chapter lived up to the episode. I don't think I'm really capable of writing all that raw emotion and making it as good as the episode was. Heartbreaking and beautiful is all I can say, and a challenge to write in every aspect.


	21. Tomorrow...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between episode 4x15 "Us" and 4x16 "A.", the night before being reunited with Rick, Michonne and Carl.

...The sun had dipped low in the sky, darkness falling over the woods just beyond the house. The "Claimers" -as Cheyenne had secretly dubbed the rough group of men- had found it, broke down the door, and the group had taken refuge for the night.

"What's'a matter?" Daryl asked as he spread out a blanket he had claimed on the kitchen floor. The house was small, and neither of them wanted to be in the same room with the men if they didn't have to be. The two bedrooms and the living room were already taken, and there was nowhere else to go.

"Nothin'..." Cheyenne lied, hesitant to tell him what was really bothering her.

"Sure don't look like nothin'," Daryl gave her a pointed look, knowing without a doubt that she was lying. "What's on your mind?"

Still a bit hesitant, Cheyenne made a gesture to his pocket, motioning to her lips like she needed a cigarette. He nodded, understanding in an instant.

The pair stepped outside, unnoticed by the others and Daryl lit a cigarette. He took a long drag, blowing out a smoke ring and earning a small smile of amusement from Cheyenne.

"What's up?" he questioned.

"I'm not sure. I just..." She looked up at him, unsure, feeling silly. "I have a bad feelin'. Like somethin' ain't right."

Daryl eyed her keenly, puffing out another smoke ring, but didn't say anything.

She continued, tone lowered so as not to be heard by the others. "You heard what Joe said this morning. Tony saw the man that killed their friend. We're _that_ close, Daryl. What if this guy they're after _had_ t' kill this Lou character? What if it was one of _ours?_ It could'a been anyone. Rick, Glenn, Tyreese...Anyone Daryl. Are you willing to take that chance? Maybe watch these jokers kill one of our own?"

He stared at her for a long moment. As if contemplating her words. With a sigh, he finally answered, looking tired. "We ain't stayin' with 'em forever, Cheyenne."

"I'm afraid, Daryl..." she admitted, voice dropping to a mere whisper. "I don't like them. I don't trust 'em..."

"Alright," he sighed wearily, stubbing out his cigarette butt on the porch railing. "One more day, then we'll go our seperate ways."

Cheyenne smiled weakly at him, happy they would be parting ways. "Thank you, Daryl..."

He shrugged, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and steering her inside without a word.

Tony gave them a suspicious look from the kitchen doorway, hearing the noise as they came in and getting up to investigate, but didn't say anything. Instead, he went back to the living room to be with his friends.

Daryl stretched out on the blanket, Cheyenne beside him. He had hardly let her out of his sight since Len that night in the garage. Two days. How could it have already been two days since the garage incident?

Cheyenne closed her eyes, trying to get some sleep. Tomorrow would be a new day, and soon enough they would be slipping off into the woods again. Away from these men, just the two of them. They could search for the rest of the group again, maybe find Beth, then maybe they could find a safe place to survive again.

It seemed like a silly, childish dream, but tomorrow couldn't arrive soon enough for her. It was a dream she would hold onto. No matter what...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not over the mid-season five finale... :(  
> Sorry it was so short. The next chapter will probably be my take on their reunion. Maybe. We shall see! :)


	22. Moment Of Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for 4x16 "A."

...They walked all day, barely stopping to rest. Darkness had fallen over the woods, the moon their only sorce of light. Daryl and Cheyenne had begun to hang back, planning on slipping off into the night without the Claimers at some point.

It wasn't until they saw the flickering glow of a small fire ahead of them and heard Joe's voice that they realized it was the moment they had been hoping to miss. It was the moment of truth. They were coming face to face with the man Joe and his men were looking for.

"Oh, deary me," they heard Joe chuckle as they approached, unable to see who the Claimers' victim was. "You screwed up asshole."

Cheyenne and Daryl hung back, hidden in the shadow of the abandoned truck on the roadside as they emerged from the woods.

Still unable to get a look at the person Joe was speaking to, Daryl moved forward, motioning for Cheyenne to stay back when she began to follow. Slowly, he moved alongside the truck, leaving Cheyenne at the rear.

"Today's the day of reckoning, sir!" Joe chuckled again. "Restitution. Balancing of the whole damn universe. Shit, and I was thinkin' o'turnin' in for the night on New Year's Eve!"

Against Daryl's silent command to stay back, Cheyenne moved forward, stepping up behind the hunter as he watched from the shadows, a confused, almost worried look creasing his brow.

Joe laughed again. "Now who's gonna count down the ball droppin' with me? Huh?" -his tone grew louder as he began counting- "Ten Mississippi! Nine Mississippi!! EIGHT MISSISSIPPI!---"

"Joe!" Daryl called out as he suddenly stepped out of the shadows, fed up with waiting, motioning for Cheyenne to stay behind him as he moved around the front of the truck.

Movement caught her attention, and Cheyenne turned to look on in horror at a terrified Carl sitting in the front seat of the truck.

Carl's eyes were wide with fear, silently begging her to help him.

She bit her lip, her eyes pleading with Carl not to move, keep quiet.

He must have understood, his eyes drifting back to the scene before them.

Michonne and Rick were sitting on the ground by the fire, Joe pointing a gun to Rick's head, Tony pointing his at Michonne's.

Cheyenne felt nauseous at the scene unfolding before her eyes. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't!

Daryl looked as if he were in shock, his eyes landing on Rick's pleading gaze.

"Hold up..."

"You're stoppin' me on eight, Daryl!" Joe growled, annoyance heavy in his gruff voice.

"Jus'...hold up..." Daryl's voice came out weak and strained, as if he were trying to convince himself that he was dreaming as he approached the group cautiously, his gaze fixed on the people he and Cheyenne both assumed were either dead or lost to them forever.

"This is the guy that killed Lou, so we got nothin' t' talk about," one of the men piped up.

"The thing about now days is we got nothin' but time," Joe shrugged, ignoring the man's angry protest to the stalling. "Say your piece, Daryl."

"These people," Daryl paused for a moment, tone lowering an octave before he continued hesitantly. "You're gonna let 'em go. These are good people."

Cheyenne knew he was trying to controll his emotions, his fear. Shock, anger, happiness, terror. He was most likely feeling the same things she was.

"Now, I think Lou would disagree with you on that," Joe stated flatly, a look of betrayal crossing his rough features. "I'll of course have t' speak for him and all, 'cause your friend here strangled 'im in a bathroom."

"You want blood...I get it," Daryl shrugged slightly, slowly spreading his arms in a submissive gesture.

Cheyenne's breath caught in her throat as she watched Daryl lay his crossbow on the ground at his feet, spreading his arms out once again as he made his bargain in an attempt to save the others.

"Take it from me, man..." he offered quietly, hands up.

Frozen with horror, Cheyenne felt her fear climaxing tenfold at his words. What the hell was he doing?! He couldn't just sacrifice himself like this! There had to be another way!

"C'mon..." Daryl edged forward slightly, his tone almost tearful.

Joe stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, but in reality, it had only lasted for a few breathless seconds.

"This man killed our friend...You say he's good people..." Joe shook his head in disbelief, waving a finger angrily at Daryl. "You know, that right there i-is a lie! IT'S A LIE!!"

Daryl dropped his hands, taking a step back. Before he could even prepare himself, one of the men stepped up, slamming his rifle butt into Daryl's stomach, doubling the hunter over as he gasped in pain, the breath knocked out of his lungs.

"NO!" Cheyenne cried out, surging forward, only to be stopped by Tony slamming a fist into her face.

Right eye throbbing as she hit the ground hard, head colliding with a rock and her knife flying from her grip, Cheyenne felt her world tilting dangerously to the left as Tony's heavy foot rested on her back between her shoulder blades, pinning her to the ground. She watched in horror as two of the men ganged up on Daryl, throwing punches mercilessly.

"Teach 'im fellas!" Joe ordered, also watching the men beating on Daryl. "Teach 'im all the way!"

"Daryl!!" Cheyenne fairly screamed from her place on the ground. Fighting against Tony's heavy foot, she watched with mounting horror as one of the other men drug Carl out of the truck. If she could just reach her knife!

Daryl's gasps and small cries of pain continued to fuel her terror and rage. Carl was crying, Rick was growling idle threats at Joe. She had to get her knife. She had to help.

The men beating Daryl weren't stopping for anything. Cheyenne barely noticed Joe and Rick speaking to each other again. They threw Daryl against the truck, grabbed him, slammed him to the ground. Fists and boots pounding into him mercilessly.

She heard him call out once, her name a strangled cry torn from his throat as a boot connected with his ribs.

"Daryl!!" She cried again, struggling a bit harder against Tony's foot. She needed her knife. It was so close. Just a half an inch.

"First we're gonna beat Daryl t' death," Joe said to Rick, grinning evily. "Then we'll have the girls, then the boy...And then I'm gonna shoot you and then we'll be square."

Cheyenne cringed at Joe's evil laughter. Her hand finally fell on her knife and she gripped it tightly, feeling complete with the weight of the weapon in her hand. Carl's cries of terror, Daryl's distressed gasps, all of it was fueling her rage. Her strength returning and the dizziness fading.

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Cheyenne suddenly flipped herself over, knocking Tony off balance as she lashed out at his leg.

The action earned her a good hard slap, knocking her flat on her face again, but she didn't care.

A gunshot sounded, a signal that the fight was on.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion as Rick and Joe began throwing punches, Joe shouting to Tony when the other man tried to help him. "I got 'im! It's run full course now!"

Cheyenne scrambled to her feet as Michonne suddenly tried to charge Tony, knocking the gun to the side as he fired at her, just missing her.

In a fit of rage, Cheyenne charged the first man on top of Daryl, stabbing him in the shoulder viciously as she leapt on him, wrapping her legs around his torso as he screamed in pain.

The other man ignored his friend's screams, yanking Daryl up from the ground and slamming him into the truck again.

Slashing at the man's arms, Cheyenne yanked at his hair as he bucked and screamed, trying desperately to rid himself of her. How dare he touch Daryl?!

"What the hell ya' gonna do now, sport?" she heard Joe laugh.

Then Rick did the unthinkable, everyone freezing in horror at the sight before them.

Rick sank his teeth into Joe's throat, obliterating his carotid artery completely as he turned his head, ripping flesh and spitting the mess to the side as Joe went ghostly white in an instant, falling to the leaf strewn gravel road, a gurgling sound clearly heard by all as he drowned in his own blood.

The next thing Cheyenne knew, she was on the ground again, the dizziness overtaking her again. Daryl was fighting, Michonne had taken down Tony with his own gun, aimed and fired at the man Cheyenne had stabbed, killing him. They were winning!

"Let the boy go!" Michonne demanded a moment later, gun trained on the fat man holding Carl at knife point.

Seeing another chance to help Daryl, Cheyenne stuck her foot out, tripping the man Daryl was exchanging blows with.

The man fell, Daryl grabbing the back of his coat collar and slamming his face against the dirt several times before ending it all with a hardy stomp to the back of the man's head.

Cheyenne rolled over, watching as Rick, coated in Joe's blood and armed with the dead man's knife, advanced menacingly on the man holding his son.

"He's mine..."

Rick ignored the man's pleas for mercy, stabbing him in the gut before literally dragging the knife up through his body, stabbing him repeatedly in the chest when the deed had been done.

Daryl stumbled away from the man he had just taken care of, leaning against the truck hood for support as he watched their leader continue to butcher the fat man.

Slowly, he bent, helping Cheyenne get up.

Feeling her adrenaline rush ebb, Cheyenne clung to Daryl for support as he wrapped his arm around her. She hadn't even realized she was crying until he shushed her gently, hugging her a bit tighter.

Sliding down to the ground, Daryl turned himself and Cheyenne so their backs were against the truck tire, holding her close as she sobbed in shock and relief.

The nightmare was over. Joe and his merry band of murderers were dead. And no one was sorry for it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. I knew what I wanted to write, but I just couldn't seem to explain this very well. Hope this chapter was enjoyable.
> 
> Please feel free to tell me if it's crap! :)


	23. Habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little -slightly fluffy- scene after Tyreese and Rick fight in 4x03 "Isolation".

...She listens to the metalic _cling, click_ as he flips the zippo open, closed, open, closed repeatedly with practiced fingers and a slight flick of the wrist. His gaze is somewhere far away, and she knows he's itching for a cigarette between his lips.

"Mind if I join ya'?" she asks, sitting down beside him on the watchtower landing, legs swinging idly over the edge, nudging his bare shoulder lightly as she does so. "How's your head?"

" 's fine..." he murmurs, avoiding eye contact. "Jus' a lil' bump. I'll live."

She hums a soft response, looking out across the prison yard at the woods beyond the fences and the walkers staggering around.

"What's on your mind?" Daryl asks, sounding strangely patient as he swings his legs in time with hers, chewing almost nervously at the side of his thumb.

"Too much to bother you with," Cheyenne smiles slightly, amused at how cute he looks when he's chewing on his thumb like that, even if it is a bad habit some people would frown upon. "Wonderin' who did that t' Karen and David...Why...Just random stuff."

"You an' me both..." he admits quietly.

"And I guess I was worryin' about you a little..." she blushes when he looks up at her, tired eyes searching hers almost disapprovingly.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Just because. We all care about you, Daryl. _I_ care about you. I don't like seein' you get hurt."

"Didn't get hurt."

"Tyreese bounced your head off those bars this mornin', didn't he?"

He gives her a sideways look, silently warning her to drop it. He's stressed, everyone is, and he doesn't want to talk about it.

She ignores the look. She just wants to help. Maybe ease some of his stress, and soothe the tension binding his impressive muscles up until they're likely achingly taught. Just _help_ in any way she can think of really.

Slowly, she stands up, fishing in her back pocket and pulling out a crumpled pack of half empty cigarettes.

"Here," she says, dropping the pack in his lap. "Thought maybe these would help ya' relax a little."

He gives her a questioning -almost suspicious- look as he hesitantly takes a cigarette from the pack, placing one between his lips.

"Found 'em in the glove compartment on one of the trucks you guys brought back from your last supply run. Thought I'd tuck 'em away for a moment like this."

Daryl lights up a moment later, taking a long, deep drag from the cigarette and puffing the smoke out slowly, savoring the flavor of the nicotine on his tongue.

"I'm not sayin' I like t' see you smokin'," Cheyenne smiles at the sound of his soft, satisfied sigh. "Hell, I'd like t' see ya' quit. But I guess it can't hurt...Just this once."

He gives her a tired, lopsided smirk, blowing out a smoke ring and receiving another amused smile from the blonde before speaking, tone soft and grateful.

"Thanks..."

She smiles, then re-claims her seat beside him on the watchtower landing.

"Hershel wants t' have a council meetin' in an hour or so," Cheyenne says after a while, giving him a pointed look when he sighs heavily.

"Yeah, I figured he would..."

Twenty minutes later, the pair head back inside for the meeting their little council has called, comfortable in their shared silence as they make their way through the building to the prison library. The sickness spreading throughout the prison isn't going to let them rest, and they know it. Something needs to be done, and if Cheyenne knows him like she thinks she does, Daryl will be the first to jump to the rescue.

She doesn't mind. She knows he loves their makeshift family, and she knows it's his way of showing it.

In a way, it's a habit. And in Cheyenne's opinion, a good one...


	24. Unlikely Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Attempted rape/non-con elements.  
> set sometime during season 2, just after Dale's death, before Shane kills Randall, and all that good stuff.

...Cheyenne hated being a problem. Especially when her new friends already had a problem on their hands with this Randall kid and the threat of a strange group attacking looming over their heads. But Shane was creating new problems...Problems with her. Big ones.

The morning had started off just like any other since her arrival on the farm, and Cheyenne had decided to go for a walk.

It wasn't until she lost sight of the farm that Cheyenne realized she had made a mistake in venturing as far as she had, and she wasn't at all surprised when Shane appeared from behind a tree. Just her luck.

"Lil' girls like you shouldn't be wand'rin' 'round the woods all alone," Shane drawled, stepping in front of her and blocking her path, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Never know who might be prowlin' around."

"Get outta my way, Shane," Cheyenne glared, trying to appear unfazed by his dominating presense.

When he made no reply, she tried to side step him, go around and continue on her merry way. Maybe if she could get past him and slip off into the woods, he wouldn't follow.

He moved with her, blocking her once again.

"Aw, c'mon, darlin'," he pouted mockingly. "Don't be like that. Ain't no reason for ya' t' be unfriendly."

"Screw you," she flipped him the bird, defiance lacing her tone.

Before she could turn around and go back to the farm, make a subtle break for safety, the ex-policeman was grabbing her by the wrist, twisting it painfully as he pulled her close to him.

"I don't take kindly t' lil' blonde girls actin' all uppity with me," he sneered, breath hot against her cheek as she struggled against the big man.

"Let go, Shane! You're hurting me!"

"Aw, don't fight it, girl," Shane crooned to her as she twisted in his grip. "You know ya' want this."

In answer to that statement, Cheyenne hauled back with her free hand, fingers curling into a fist as she swung at Shane's face, aiming for his nose.

Her knuckles connected with his face, a sickening crack instantly following her punch.

With a yelp of pain, Shane loosened his grip enough for her to jerk away, sprinting in the direction of the farm the instant she was free.

Her accomplishment was short lived, however.

With a cry of surprise, Cheyenne went crashing to the forest floor, Shane snarling above her as he rolled her over on her back, pinning her arms to the ground and straddling her hips.

"Lemme tell ya' somethin', darlin'," Shane's tone was low and menacing, dark with intent as she struggled against him. "You're not gettin' away with that. And here I thought we could be _friends_."

His nose was bleeding, the blood dripping down on her face and neck as she tried to hide her fear, hold in the tears that threatened to give her terror away.

"You're gonna lay here and take it. An' you're gonna like it."

"Get off!" Cheyenne roared helplessly, struggling all the harder when he began to paw at her clothing. "Can't you understand english?!"

Shane chuckled, a sadistic little sound and her fear mounted tenfold.

"Somebody!! Help me!!" she screamed, on the verge of a full-on panic attack when the man unbuckled his belt.

This couldn't be happening to her again. It just couldn't. Not now. Not after all the shit she had been through already.

Shane growled in irritation, pinning her wrists down with his left hand, the right clamping down over her mouth roughly.

"You'd best shut that damn mouth!"

Unable to keep her tears at bay any longer, Cheyenne sobbed against Shane's calloused palm, the fight slowly draining from her limbs as he sneered down at her wickedly.

And then, just as suddenly as he had attacked her, Shane was being dragged away. A feral-sounding snarl alerting her to the presense of someone else.

Scrambling to her feet, Cheyenne watched in shock as Daryl slammed the ex-cop up against a nearby tree, looking as if he were about to snap the bigger man's neck.

"You touch her again, I'll kill you," Daryl growled, eyes narrowing to slits and darkening with rage, his right forearm pressed against Shane's throat harshly.

Shane glowered at the hunter, pushing him away when Daryl removed his arm from his throat.

"We'll settle this later, blondie," Shane hissed threateningly, brushing past Cheyenne and storming off in the direction of the farm. The ex-cop glared daggers at the hunter as he stalked by the smaller man. If looks could kill, Daryl would probably be dead.

"You alright?" Daryl asked, the rage in his ton a moment later replaced by concern. "Did he hurt you?"

"Yeah...I-I'm alright..." Cheyenne nodded shakily, re-adjusting her coat and looking away, trying to hide her tears, shocked that Shane hadn't started a _real_ fight with Daryl.

"If he comes near you again, you let me know," Daryl warned gently, looking awkward and unsure of what he should do or say, and yet, deadly serious about taking care of Shane.

"Okay," she sniffed, drying her tears on her coat sleeve.

"Here," he offered her a rag from his back pocket, gesturing toward her face and neck. "Ya' got blood all over ya'."

"Yeah...I think I might'a broke his nose," she smirked in spite of herself, wiping at the drying blood.

"Bastard deserved it," Daryl muttered darkly, looking angry again.

After a few moments, Cheyenne gave up, the blood only smearing over her pale skin. She would just have to try to get washed up before anyone saw her.

Daryl sighed heavily, tossing the bloodied rag into the bushes when she handed it back to him. "C'mon. We best be gettin' back."

"Thank you, Daryl..." she murmured gratefully.

He nodded understandingly, waiting for her to get her emotions under control and walk back with him. He wanted to protect her, and she found herself feeling even more blessed to know the hunter.

The pair walked back to the farm in silence, Daryl on high alert the entire trek.

Cheyenne couldn't believe her luck. _Someone_ was smiling down on her, that was for sure. And she couldn't help but think that she had found an unlikely angel, even in the apocalypse. And that unlikely angel...was none other than Daryl Dixon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I change the rating on this fic? Please, let me know what y'all think! :)  
> Sorry if this chapter seemed a little rushed.


	25. Protector

"PROTECTOR"

definition: a person or thing that protects someone or something.

synonyms: defender, guardian, champion, guardian angel, chaperone, escort, keeper.

 ~*~

...When Len started making comments about Cheyenne, calling her a bitch, saying disgusting things about how he would treat a "fine piece of ass" like her, Daryl felt his temper flaring.

This scrawny prick had no right to talk about her like that.

Daryl couldn't help but let his hand slowly inch toward the knife sheathed at his hip, fingers wrapping tightly around the worn handle. He was mentally preparing himself to attack as the man threw insults at his back about the blonde, how he would have "kept track" of Beth. How he wouldn't have lost an "extra piece of tail" like Daryl had.

When the skinny bastard dared to bring Beth into the one-sided conversation, he had gone too far. And Daryl snapped, enraged.

It was his job to protect both girls. He had screwed up with Beth, he knew that, but he would make damn sure not to make the same mistakes twice. He would make damn sure this little shit _never_ touched Cheyenne. Not while he was still living and breathing, able to protect the girl he still had. The one he secretly cared for. The one he may or may not love more than his own life.

Joe had broke that little spat up, talked him down, reasoned with him until he re-sheathed his knife, glaring at Len murderously as the other man looked at Cheyenne, licking his lips suggestively and sneering at Daryl.

It was the one time the hunter felt that he could literally, straight up murder someone for looking at a woman like Len was and feel no remorse whatsoever.

Daryl was Cheyenne's protector, and somehow, some way, he would keep her safe. Even if it meant killing someone to keep it that way. Even if it meant adopting these men's stupid "claiming" rule. But one way or another, he would do his job right this time.

He couldn't go on if he lost her too. Not after Beth.

Beth was the last straw.

No one, especially not this stupid prick, would take his last reason to continue, his sunshine, so to speak, away from him without a fight to the bloody death.

He was her protector, her warrior, and no one would come between him and his angel in blue jeans. Not if he could help it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should've titled this chapter "Angel in Blue Jeans". That's what I get for listening to Train while writing.
> 
> Sorry it's so short, and somewhat pointless.  
> I'm still not over 5x08, and I needed a little drabble of Daryl's thoughts on Cheyenne so far without it being too mushy. Hence the "he may or may not" love her line.
> 
> BTW, I do NOT blame Daryl for losing Beth. That was NOT his fault. It just seemed "in character" for him to blame himself.


	26. Snow Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a night during the winter between season 2 and 3

...It's cold, so bitterly cold that first winter. Georgia hadn't seen a winter so cold and snowy in years, and Daryl couldn't help but think it all seemed at least a little ironic. The world had gone to shit, so why not add on the coldest winter in years?

Those first few nights after the snow started falling had been the worst. Trying to find somewhere safe and dry to survive the winter had seemed harder than ever, and then there was the constant worry about food. Most of the Georgian wildlife would be hiding away for the cold months, add in the fact that Lori was pregnant and uncomfortable most of the time, and even Daryl was beginning to lose his patience with everyone and everything.

That first night after finally finding and securing a decent house to stay in, Daryl took first watch, tired of being near the rest of the group and needing the peace and quiet as the others huddled together in the living room for the night.

It's quiet. Snow falling soundlessly to the ground outside, the moon peeking through the heavy clouds every so often. The stillness is almost comforting as the hunter rests his forehead against the cold, frostbitten windowpane, eyes drifting closed for a few moments as he soaks up the silence, his warm breath fogging the glass.

The floor creaking behind him makes him turn around, and he's greeted by the sight of their newest member tiptoeing out of the living room, a blanket wrapped about her shoulders, another one tucked under her arm. She smiles as she draws nearer to him, offering him the spare blanket.

"I thought...ya' know...maybe you were cold out here by yourself," she stammers, voice lowered to a gentle, shy-sounding whisper.

He stares at her for a moment, taking in every detail of her features in the soft, fleeting moonlight drifting in through the window. Her blonde hair is loose and hanging around her shoulders, a rarity from what he can tell. She normally keeps it pulled back in a high ponytail or a messy side braid, and he can't help but have the urge to reach out and run his fingers through her soft tresses.

He refrains from touching her, clearing his throat quietly, uncomfortably, and shrugging slightly at the offered blanket.

"Naw, you keep it. Might get cold durin' the night."

"You might, too," she looks up at him through her long, dark lashes, head bent slightly as if she were feeling extremely shy at the moment.

He clears his throat again, feeling awkward and a bit embarrassed as the blonde offers the blanket once again.

"Please," she insists quietly. "Take it so I don't feel so bad in there by the fireplace all warm and cozy, knowin' you're out here in the cold."

"Ain't that bad," he shrugs once again, trying to appear unfazed by the chilly dampness that seems to emanate throughout the entire house. "I can take it."

"C'mon, Daryl," she looks as if she's about to start begging him. "Please?"

He gives her a long hard look, trying to decide if he should except her kindness or just tell her to go back to bed and stop fussing over him like she's his nursemaid.

The moon peeks out from behind the snow clouds once again, and he can clearly see the way her eyes are shining hopefully at him. A look of pure, unadulterated caring bright in her blue orbits.

Sighing in defeat, he takes the offered blanket, draping it around his shoulders before giving her a pointed look.

"There. Happy?"

Cheyenne doesn't reply. Instead, she simply gives him the faintest of smiles, her fingertips brushing lightly over the back of his hand resting on the windowsill before she silently makes her way back into the living room.

Shaking his head slightly, Daryl turns his attention away from the retreating figure and back to the window, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he was holding when the blonde's fingertips ghosted over his hand.

Something about this girl was different. Different in a strange and yet very good way, and Daryl found himself unconsciously wondering about her.

Did she get the same, weird fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach as he did whenever their fingers touched? Did her heart begin to race whenever she was in his presence as his seemed to whenever he was near her?

Troubled by his own thoughts and feelings, Daryl tried to focus on the snow drifting gently to the ground outside, images of Cheyenne smiling at him and the feel of her warm fingers against the back of his hand haunting his dreams when T-Dog finally took up the next watch shift and he was able to go and try to get some much needed sleep.

He didn't like to admit it, not even to himself, but reluctantly, Daryl knew.

He was falling in love with one Cheyenne Rose Carter.

And there was nothing he could do about it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this one was kinda boring/pointless and short.


	27. Sing Me To Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between season 3 and 4

...Thunder rumbled in the distance as Daryl made his way down from the watchtower, meeting Glenn and Maggie on the way. He didn't speak to them as he silently nodded to the couple, and the pair made their way up without a word in return. It was late, and he wasn't in the mood for making small talk.

Making his way inside, the hunter headed straight for the perch, rummaging through his meager belongings for a clean shirt. Upon finding a nearly worn out gray t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans in even worse condition, he made his way to the showers.

Once the water began pouring down over his aching body, Daryl quickly scrubbed away the layer of dirt he had accumulated throughout the day, finishing his shower with a quick hair washing.

The shower was refreshing, and with a clean set of comfortable clothing on, he made his way back to the perch, preparing to turn in when the sound of Judith wailing met his ears.

Sighing, Daryl turned around, silently stalking past occupied cells and following the sound of the baby's cries. When he came to Carol's cell, followed by Beth's and found the wails weren't coming from either of them, he was confused.

Frowning slightly to himself, Daryl walked to the last cell in the row, seeing the faint glow of a lantern lit behind the privacy sheets.

Quietly, the hunter stepped up to the cell, listening intently to the voice within drifting through the thin sheets.

"Judy," Cheyenne sighed, voice soft as she tried to calm the baby. "I didn't promise Carol and Beth a night off for you to keep everybody up all night, ya' know."

Carefully, Daryl slipped a finger in along the bars, drawing the sheet to the side just enough to allow him to peek in at the girl and the baby. The sight that greeted him made him smirk a little to himself, and also roused his curiosity a little.

Cheyenne was sitting on her bunk, a guitar in her lap and Judith was tucked into a padded laundry basket. Cheyenne looked tired, as if she had just woken up, and it made Daryl smile all the more.

Strumming the guitar strings gently, trying to be as quiet as possible, the blonde began to hum to the fussing baby, a hopeful look crossing her face when the infant's cries died down slightly.

Softly, Cheyenne began to sing.

 _Hush, little cowgirl_  
_No reason to cry_  
_Your mama will sing you a sweet lullaby_  
_Go to sleep cowgirl_  
_No reason to fear_  
_'Cause all through the night I'll be here_

Judith slowly grew quiet, her eyes wide and curious as she stared up at the blonde as if in awe. Daryl listened carefully from his place outside the cell, somewhat intrigued by the lullaby.

Cheyenne continued, completely oblivious to the hunter's presence.

 _I'll round up the moon for your pillow_  
_A blanket of stars for your bed_  
_I'll round up a dream of tomorrow_  
_To ride t'ward the good times ahead_  
_The coyote's singing this day to an end_  
_The rocking horse trail waits around the next bend_  
_Go to sleep cowgirl_  
_Your mama is here_  
_And all through the night I'll be here_

As Judith's eyes began to droop, Cheyenne smiled triumphantly, shifting slightly on the bunk as she finished the song.

Daryl couldn't help but smile with her at her success, surprised at how well she was doing with Lil' Asskicker. The girl didn't seem like the type of person to be good with babies and small children, but she was proving him completely wrong in this instant.

 _Loving you, holding you ever so dear_  
_And all through the night I'll be here_  
_Yes, all through the night I'll be here_

Carefully, Cheyenne propped the guitar up against the wall in the corner of the cell, moving toward the lantern sitting on a crate near the bunk and blowing the dim light out, plunging the cell into inky darkness.

Silently, Daryl moved away from the cell, bare feet padding lightly across the cool concrete floor, his hair still damp and sticking to his neck and forehead.

Once he was stretched out on his mattress, his face hidden in the crook of his arm, Daryl's mind drifted back to Cheyenne. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed music. Especially someone singing a lullaby.

With a soft sigh, the hunter relaxed, the rain pelting the prison roof and the memory of Cheyenne's soft voice lulling him to sleep.

*#*

The next morning, after everyone had eaten breakfast, Daryl approached the blonde, smirking to himself as she looked up at him.

"How'd Lil' Asskicker sleep last night?" he asked non-chalantly.

"Fine," Cheyenne answered innocently. "She was a little fussy, but I managed to get her quiet. Why? Did she wake you up?"

"Naw," Daryl shook his head slightly. "I was still awake."

Cheyenne nodded, humming slightly as her attention went back to the gun she was cleaning.

"Didn't know you could play guitar," Daryl continued, giving the girl a lopsided grin when she looked up, eyes wide and cheeks flushing a brilliant shade of pink.

"I don't," she stammered, refusing to meet his eyes. "I mean, I don't play well. How did you know I played?!"

"Heard Asskicker screamin' her lungs out, thought I'd check t' make sure nobody was pinchin' 'er."

"I would never pinch a baby," Cheyenne looked up, the faintest trace of a smile twitching at the corners of her lips. "Especially not Asskicker."

He grunted in responce, giving her a sideways look out of the corner of his eye before continuing. "Maybe you'll have t' start performin' for everybody like Beth does."

"No."

Her tone was stern, but non-threatening. She wasn't mad. Not yet. A little irritated and embarrassed, but not mad.

"Why not?" he pressured innocently.

"Because I don't sing in front of people like that."

He hummed low in his throat, nodding slightly as he walked away. Grinning like a cheshire cat on the inside when the blonde called a warning after him.

"Don't you go tellin' nobody, Daryl! I ain't singin' in front of them!"

The hunter didn't reply, too amused with keeping her on edge with the worry of being tattled on. Without a word, Daryl made his way outside, preparing to go with Michonne, Glenn and a few others on their latest supply run.

Let Cheyenne squirm for a day or two. He'd enjoy it while it lasted, even though he had no intention of ever telling anyone her secret. He would enjoy it by himself. It could be one of those rare, special memories he could hold on to and cherish in his heart...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I used is from Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman 1x09(I think) titled "A Cowboy's Lullaby" guest starring John Schneider. If you're interested in the original version (because I changed it from "Papa" to "Mama") just YouTube search "John Schneider A Cowboy's Lullaby" and you should be able to watch a video of him singing this sweet little lullaby :)
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed this short, somewhat pointless chapter. Also, I hope Daryl wasn't too OOC at the end.


	28. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor spoilers for 5x12 "Remember". Sorry it's so short and kinda pointless. I tried...and I failed :(

...Being cooped up in the house was annoying him. Without a word, he made his way out onto the porch to smoke a cigarette and bask in the fresh evening air.

Everyone was clean and had changed into new clothes. Everyone except him. The house smelled like soap and candles, and he hated it.

The creaking of the porch floorboards alerted him to someone's presence and he tensed, preparing for a lecture from Carol or Rick on his present hygiene.

He looked up, slightly taken aback at the sight that greeted him. It wasn't Rick or Carol at all. The girl he had become accustomed to, the filthy dirty spitfire toting a compound bow who he'd come to recognize so blindly no longer existed. Standing before him was a pretty, flower-scented blonde, shyly nibbling at her lower lip as he stared at her. It was Cheyenne. No mistaking that. Just a cleaner version of the girl he'd come to know while out on the road.

"What?" she suddenly spoke up, glancing down at her jeans and light blue cotton button-up, noticably self-conscious about her appearance under his intense gaze.

He shook his head slightly, taking a long drag from his cigarette without answering her.

"C'mon, Daryl," she pressured, taking a step closer to him. "Talk to me. What is it?"

"Nothin'," he smirked slightly at the exasperated look she gave him. "Jus' ain't seen ya' like this in a while."

"Now it's your turn," she teased, knowing full well that Daryl probably wouldn't be taking a shower anytime soon.

"Don't you start on me now, too," he grumbled. "Carol's been buggin' me all day. And I ain't gettin' a damn haircut."

"Good," Cheyenne smiled, stepping closer to him and tugging lightly on a lock of his hair. "I like it like this."

"Shut up," he smirked, shrugging away from her playful touch in mock annoyance. "You smell funny."

"Thanks alot," she pouted in mock disappointment.

"You know what I meant."

She shook her head innocently, looking up at him expectantly.

"Ya' smell like raspberries," he murmured, eyes downcast shyly. "And ya' look...different."

"Daryl," when she spoke, her tone had softened. He didn't look up, so she tried again. "Hey...It's still me. I'm still the same person."

"I know that," he sighed, stubbing the cigarette out on the porch railing and turning to face her. "I ain't stupid."

"Never said you were," Cheyenne stated, leaning against the railing beside him. "It's gonna be hard for us to fit in and learn to be...normal again after all we've been through. But we gotta try. We all gotta start somewhere."

He hummed in acknowledgement, nodding ever so slightly as she shuffled a bit closer to him, soft cotton rubbing teasingly at his bare bicep.

It was going to be hard. Daryl didn't trust anyone. Being in a house, a clean one without boards over the windows and furniture shoved in front of the doors, it made him uneasy. It reminded him too much of how things were before. The way the Alexandria residents looked at him was like a slap in the face. Reminding him that he wasn't like them. Never had been. He didn't fit in. He wasn't like them and it hurt.

Cheyenne must have sensed the tension radiating from him as she leaned against him, slipping her hand into his and squeezing his fingers gently.

"It'll be okay, Daryl," she whispered against his shoulder. "We're gonna be okay..."

And even though he still had mixed feelings about this place, Daryl nodded in agreement.

"I hope you're right..."...


	29. I'll Be Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set between season 3 and 4
> 
> Sorry it's short and kinda pointless, I just needed a little fluff-drabble :)

...It had been three weeks since Daryl had returned to the prison bearing the bad news that his brother had been murdered.

During those three long weeks, Cheyenne hadn't really tried to speak to Daryl about his loss.

"Merle never did nothin' like that his whole life," she had heard him mumble to Carol on the day they'd packed up and rolled out of the prison, ready and waiting to ambush when the Governor and his "soldiers" arrived.

Daryl had shied away from any conversations aimed toward Merle after that, the deaths of both his brother and Andrea seeming to take their toll on the hunter. No one had seen Daryl get a good night's sleep since the attack, and no one had really tried to comfort him. It was easier to just let the man be instead of arguing with him.

On the fourth week since the attack with no signs of the Governor returning, Cheyenne had had enough. She followed Daryl to the guard tower, unable to miss the worry on Rick's face when the hunter refused to let anyone take his shift on watch for the night.

She watched silently as he sank wearily into a chair in the corner of the tower, rubbing his tired eyes and sighing heavily, exhaustion written plainly on his rugged features as his body sagged against the metal chair. He looked as if he were about to pass out from the lack of rest, and she wondered for the umpteenth time in four weeks how long it had actually been since he'd slept.

"What?" his voice was rough, raspy and hoarse as he huffed out another tired sigh.

"Jus' thought I'd come up and give you some company," Cheyenne said, hoping he couldn't see the worry in her eyes.

He hummed in response, shaking his head slightly. "You ain't a very good liar, princess."

"I wasn't lying," she protested. "I'm worried about you, Daryl."

"Well stop," he growled irritably. "You're gettin' as bad as Carol. Always fussin' around, stickin' your nose in where it don't belong."

"I don't care," she snapped defiantly. "The way you're goin', you're gonna get somebody killed. Ya' might even get _yourself_ killed. Is that what you want?"

He looked up, a hurt look crossing his face before being replaced with a steely-eyed glare.

"Why the hell would you care anyway?"

"I have my reasons," Cheyenne muttered, turning away from him as her cheeks burned with an embarrassed blush. "I don't wanna see anything happen to anybody, Daryl. 'specially not you."

He made no reply, his attention focused on the hole in the leg of his pants. He picked idly at the rough edges, tugging lightly at the frayed strings before looking up at her, slow and hesitant.

"I'm not asking you to talk about it," Cheyenne reassured him calmly, not mentioning Merle specifically. "You will when you're ready. I'm just asking you to come inside and go t' bed. Let somebody else take your shift. Hell, I'll take it if you just go get some sleep."

He shrugged half-heartedly, the lack of a protest giving her confidence.

"C'mon, Daryl...Get some sleep...Please?..."

Sighing heavily, he nodded his agreement, getting up and preparing to leave while Cheyenne propped her bow in the corner and made herself comfortable on the chair he had been occupying, obviously pleased that she had been successful in her mission.

As he shouldered his crossbow, he nodded again, giving the blonde a sideways glance as he spoke, voice rough and full of hidden emotion. "Thanks..."

Cheyenne smiled faintly at him, understanding in her eyes.

Daryl knew she was there. If he wanted to talk about Merle, she would listen. He would come to her when he was ready. And he could rest assured that she would be there for him when that time came.

_I'll be waiting,_ Cheyenne thought as she watched Daryl make his way inside...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s. THANK YOU to all the lovely people who have left comments and kudos on this. It means a lot and I'm happy y'all are enjoying my random-ness.
> 
> Thank you again for reading! :)  
> Love, EyeInTheDark xox


	30. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short. I hope I'm not setting myself (and Cheyenne^.^) up for a massive heartbreak on Sunday night!

...The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as Daryl -followed by Cheyenne- made his way over to Aaron and Eric's, preparing to leave with Aaron on his first recruiting run.

The early morning sunlight glinted on the chrome when the hunter-turned-mechanic threw the overhead door open, smirking proudly at the machine parked inside the garage.

"We'll be back in a day or so," Daryl reassured her, sharp eyes catching the sad look in her eyes as he secured his bow on the rack. "Don't worry."

"Promise you'll be careful?" she asked, trying to hide her growing fear as he looked up, nodding.

"Always am."

"And promise you'll always come back to me?"

Daryl sighed, hanging his head slightly. "You know I can't promise somethin' like that..."

She nodded in disappointed agreement, nibbling at her lower lip and frowning. "I know...but..."

"I'll try..." Daryl murmured quietly after a few heartbeats of silence, looking at her through his shaggy fringe. "I _can_ promise that."

Cheyenne nodded again, the faintest of smiles tugging at her lips as he moved toward her, calloused fingertips brushing her wrist lightly in a comforting gesture.

Standing on tip-toe, Cheyenne kissed his lips lightly, brushing his hair back from his eyes a moment later and smiling weakly. "I know you will...I just wanted to hear you say it."

Daryl hummed in response, leaning his forehead against hers for a moment, embracing her tightly in his strong arms. Kissing her cheek lightly, he moved away, pushing the bike outside just as Aaron came out of the house. It was time to go.

"Don't worry," he shouted over the roar of the bike engine coming to life a few seconds later. "I'll be fine."...


	31. Tease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very good at writing humor. Hope this one makes y'all laugh anyway, and I also hope Daryl isn't too OOC. Enjoy :)

...He awoke to the sound of Cheyenne laughing and Rick and Carol joining in. Sighing, Daryl rolled over on his mattress, trying to ignore the people on the lower level so he could go back to sleep. His wrist was aching again, and the only thing he'd found to make it feel better other than the painkillers Hershel had given him was to sleep through it.

Growling softly to himself, he carefully gripped his aching limb, squeezing it just above the spot where it hurt the most. Pressure seemed to help some, but it still wasn't enough.

He felt stupid for injuring himself the way he had. When had he become so clumsy? Then again, it wasn't his fault somebody had left a hoe lying on the ground for somebody to trip over. And it wasn't his fault someone had distracted him.

Well...maybe that part was his fault, but that wasn't the point.

He was embarrassed just thinking about it.

Maggie had shouted for him to come help at the fence and he had quickly handed the string of squirrels he had bagged that morning over to Carol, making his way across the prison yard without hesitation, a shout drawing his attention toward the opposite end of the fence where Glenn and Cheyenne had moved, trying to draw some of the herd hanging on the wire away, spread them out a little as the fence bowed under the weight of so many bodies pressed against it.

Cheyenne's golden hair seemed to glint in the high noon sunlight as she worked alongside Glenn, stabbing walkers through the fence with a sharpened piece of metal. The wind carried her voice across the yard, her shout of "C'mon! Come and get me you stupid rotten idiots!" distracting him as he watched her stab another geek through the wire, Glenn shouting with her.

The next thing he knew he was sprawling on the ground, searing pain shooting through his wrist as he rolled over, trying to disentangle himself from whatever he had tripped over.

Rick was by his side in an instant, trying to hold back a laugh as he tossed the hoe out of the way, offering a hand to the hunter.

"Hey man, you okay?"

"Shit!" Daryl hissed, cradling his wrist protectively, flinching away from Rick when he reached for his injured limb. "Who the hell left that layin' around?!" he bit out angrily, hoping Rick didn't notice the pain laced through his voice.

"Sorry," Rick apologized, backing off slightly and giving him his space. "Hershel and I must've missed it when we called it a night last night."

He grumbled out another complaint as he picked himself up off the ground, stomping off toward the prison while Rick ran to tell the others he wouldn't be coming to help after all. He hated it, but the way his wrist was throbbing, he knew he needed Hershel to have a look at it.

The old vet had wrapped it up with what his medical supplies had to offer and given him a small bottle of painkillers, warning him not to use that hand if he didn't have to, no crossbow for at least a week. That part hadn't made him feel much better. If anything, it made him even more irritable.

The painkillers had made him drowsy, and finally he'd given in and went to his mattress to sleep for half the afternoon and early evening. Lord knew he deserved a good day's rest with the way he'd been pushing himself lately.

Now, lying awake on the landing, his wrist still swollen, the dull throb of pain slowly coming back, he felt even more embarrassed and useless as he listened to the group laughing and talking below, Maggie and Glenn joining in on the laughter and chatter.

"Ya' know, if ya' wanted out of fence duty, all ya' had t' do was say so!" Cheyenne called up to him as he sat up, peering down at his core group with a little huff of annoyance, trying to ignore the burning sensation creeping up the back of his neck and across his cheeks.

He took in the appearance of each of his family members, noting the dirt smeared across Glenn and Maggie's faces, spatters of blood mixing in here and there. But Cheyenne!

The blonde was grinning widely, coated from head to toe in walker blood, her braided hair a disheveled mess, strands of bloodstained gold standing out in every direction. She was a mess and a half, looking tired but happy with the day's work.

"That's okay," she chuckled when he didn't answer. "We probably got more of those fence-clingers cleaned out than we would have with you under foot."

Glaring down at her, he flipped her the bird, getting up and stalking down the metal stairs from the perch as she laughed. He knew she was teasing.

"How bad is it?" Rick asked, motioning toward Daryl's bandaged wrist. "Anything broken?"

"Naw, jus' sprained it pretty bad," he answered simply, picking idly at the wrapping.

"Good," Cheyenne smiled devilishly, poking him in the ribs as she passed him. "You're in good enough shape to take my filthy clothes to Carol while I change then. Don't want you gettin' spoiled or feelin' useless."

"What?"

"You heard me. I'll toss 'em out to you. I'm sure Beth doesn't wanna scrub the floors tonight, and I definitely don't want to either."

Feeling embarrassed again, Daryl followed Cheyenne to her cell, waiting impatiently outside as she dropped the curtain to peel her filthy clothes off in private, the others going about their own business.

"Here's the first one," she warned, a dirt and blood smeared hand poking out through the curtain with the shirt she'd been wearing hanging from her fingertips.

He took the shirt gingerly, draping it over his bare forearm without a word. The pair of jeans that came out next were added to the pile, and he quickly spoke up, feeling weird standing outside her cell while she stripped. "That it?"

"Not quite," came the reply.

Daryl's face burned scarlet as a black lacey bra was suddenly thrust through the curtain, Cheyenne's voice barely registering as he snatched it from her fingertips, burying it beneath the dirty jeans.

"Even the stuff that's still clean smells awful!"

Glancing up at the curtain, wanting nothing more than to drop the stuff on the floor and go back to his place on the perch, Daryl nearly choked at the sight he was greeted with.

Somehow, the curtain had been twisted, probably when she handed her bra out to him, and he could clearly see her as she bent to pick up the black panties that went with the bra. Cheyenne was clothed in nothing but a shirt, the worn cotton hanging unbuttoned and loose around her thin frame to reveal a frilly pink bra. Her lower half was covered with matching panties, and her bloodstained hair had been pulled up on top of her head with a clip.

Cheyenne turned around, eyes wide for the briefest of seconds before she quickly threw the shirt wide open, showing off her powder pink bra provocatively, smiling with unbridled glee and satisfaction at the way his eyes flew wide open, the way his face turned bright pink.

Daryl nearly swallowed his tongue as she flaunted herself at him, dropping the dirty laundry on the concrete floor and sprinting through the cell block like the devil himself was hot on his heels, Cheyenne's hysterical laughter and Rick's puzzled shout echoing through the prison after him as he made a beeline for one of the guard towers to hide in embarrassment.

Nearly three hours later, when he thought that _maybe_ the coast was clear, hopeful that everyone but the next person on watch was asleep, Daryl made his way back inside, still feeling embarrassed and awkward as he made his way to the landing steps.

"Glad you came back."

Daryl froze. Of all of the group, she had to be the one still awake.

"Why wouldn't I?" he grunted, trying to sound casual.

Cheyenne chuckled lightly, as if he'd said something funny, quietly breezing past him. When she came to her cell, she turned around smiling slightly to herself before speaking. "I don't know...I'm glad you did anyway."

He grunted again, still embarrassed.

"Goodnight, Daryl," she smiled innocently, slipping into her cell and out of sight.

Shaking his head, Daryl made his way up to the landing, trying all the while to convince himself that he wasn't a creep. He wasn't the one who'd purposefully flaunted his body in front of someone. That was all Cheyenne.

Flopping back on his mattress and closing his eyes, Daryl allowed the image of Cheyenne in her powder pink bra and panties to float back into his mind's eye and he smiled to himself, the embarrassment he'd felt all evening suddenly forgotten. Now that he had time to think about it, to get over his intial shock at the sight of her, he realized that he had actually kind of enjoyed the show. He was a man after all, and there was nothing wrong with appreciating the opposite sex if the opposite sex offered a free show, so to speak.

As he drifted off to sleep, Cheyenne's innocent little smile still burned into his memory and the pain in his wrist forgotten, Daryl came to one last conclusion before sleep overtook him; Cheyenne Rose Carter was probably the biggest tease he had ever met.

And deep down...He liked it...


	32. Observations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set sometime during season 2 episode 6 "Secrets"

...From the moment he'd first layed eyes on her, Daryl had begun a careful observation of the new girl. The way she carried herself, the way she spoke.

On her first day in camp, she had gotten into a fight with Andrea almost right away. It hadn't come to blows, but Daryl could tell by the defensive stance she took that she wouldn't hesitate to throw a punch if it came right down to it.

Lying in his tent that same evening, left hand resting lightly over his healing wound, he smirked slightly to himself, watching the whole scene play out again behind his closed lids.

* * *

Andrea approached Rick, fire flashing in her eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Excuse me?" Rick asked, taken aback at the angry tone in which the woman spoke.

"Do you really think it's a wise decision to let her keep her weapons?" Andrea motioned toward the blonde approaching them. "We don't even know her! It's not... _safe._ "

"At least I didn't try t' shoot one of my own group members in the head," Cheyenne retorted defiantly.

The indignant look Andrea shot the new girl's way was almost enough to make Daryl laugh outright. Carol had pestered him out of his tent and he was sitting on the sidelines in one of the camping chairs, utterly enjoying the show as Rick tried to deal with two hot-headed females at the same time. In all honesty, it was quite hilarious in his opinion.

"I couldn't see. The sun was in my eyes," Andrea argued defensively.

"Then I guess you shouldn't'a been takin' potshots across that field," Cheyenne stated matter-of-factly, blue eyes flashing with barely contained anger. " 'specially when I heard through the grape vine that the rules here are no guns."

"Rick!" Andrea spluttered, turning on the leader. "Are you going to do something or not?!"

"Andrea," Rick started, only to be cut off by the enraged woman.

"I mean, really, Rick! Think of your wife and your son! This girl could be dangerous!"

"If I was gonna kill anybody, I would'a already done it and been gone," Cheyenne huffed, obviously unimpressed with Andrea's implications.

"Stay out of this!" Andrea shouted, rounding on the girl threateningly. "Nobody asked for your opinion. This is between me and _Officer_ Grimes."

"You best back the hell up!" Cheyenne snarled, getting in Andrea's personal space, forcing the older woman to take a step back. "Just 'cause you can't hardly be trusted with a weapon doesn't mean I can't be! Deal with it."

"I am dealing with it," Andrea retorted. "And that's got nothing to do with it. This is none of your business!"

"Why don't you go take another ride with Tarzan over there?!" Cheyenne shouted, thrusting a finger in Shane's direction. "And stop stickin' that damn beak of yours in other peoples business!"

"Alright, that's enough!" Rick yelled over the two arguing women. "Andrea, if you'd just calm down and take a step back---"

"Calm down?!" Andrea roared, turning back to the blonde and ignoring Rick's attempts to break up the argument. "I'm not gonna just let this-this little  _bitch_ talk to me like this!"

"Takes one t' know one," Cheyenne replied cooly, stepping into Andrea's personal space once again and following her when she took another step back.

Daryl watched, intrigued. She was angry, he could tell that much, but it wasn't the same as the anger he had seen her displaying only moments before. Her mood had changed somewhat. She was still mad, no doubt about that, but it wasn't the type of anger that brought about hitting and yelling. Her temper had went from hot and defiant to calm and controlled, a deadly serious look in her eyes that spoke volumes.

She continued, tone lowered. "I'm done fightin' with you. I'm dealing with Rick now. Back. Off."

Andrea glared at her for a few seconds before letting out a huff of air and storming off in the direction of the house, slamming the door behind her.

Needless to say, Cheyenne kept her weapons...and gained a certain amount of respect from Daryl without even realizing it.

* * *

Throughout the next few days while he remained mostly out of commission, Daryl observed Cheyenne carefully. And with each new observation he made, he grew more and more fond of the little blonde spitfire that had followed him back to his group...


	33. Before The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains depictions of self-harm. Please, don't read if this subject upsets you!  
> Set during episode 5x10 "Them"...because Daryl needed a friggin' hug!  
> P.S. Sorry it's taken me so long to update.

_...We're not dead. That's what you said. You're not dead. I know you. We're different. I can't let myself feel - but you? I know you. You have to let yourself feel it...You will..._

   (Carol to Daryl, 5x10 "Them".)

* * *

...She found him seated on the ground; knees drawn up to his chest as he sobbed brokenly, the smell of burnt flesh and cigarette smoke assaulting her senses as she stepped into the clearing behind him unnoticed.

She didn't speak, opting to keep her distance and watch over him. Make sure he was safe, that there were no threats nearby...That he didn't hurt himself anymore than he already had.

She could see his hand; the burn, raw and painful looking as he cried, tears hidden behind the curtain of his long fringe and the position of his bowed head.

Honestly, she had been expecting something like this. Maybe not the self-harm, but something. Ever since Atlanta, she had kept her eyes on the hunter for signs of the break down she knew was sure to come. Daryl had become withdrawn again, distancing himself from the group; slipping away alone whenever he got the chance, and frankly, it scared her.

It began with that book he had picked up at the shelter that night before finding Beth, the print on the cover still burned into her memory, the look on his face when Carol had dropped his pack and the book had tumbled out still fresh in her mind's eye. _Treating Survivors of Childhood Abuse: Psychotherapy for the Interrupted Life._

She had seen his scars before. Picked up bits and pieces of his past here and there. She knew. It just never really sank in until that day. Practically seeing the cold hard truth right before her eyes had really kicked her in the teeth. She felt stupid for taking so long in excepting that that had been a part of Daryl's past.

She was fairly certain he hadn't seen her watching him the night he had hurled that book into the woods, cursing under his breath with a look of pure hatred blazing in his eyes as the campfire illuminated his face. She had spent half an hour early the next morning searching for it, and when she found it, she had quietly tucked it into her own pack, determined to help Daryl come around again. Hoping against hope that he hadn't given up compeletely on trying.

Sadness crept into her heart as she stared on at him; vulnerable, broken with grief.

When she could stand the sound of his sobs no longer, she spoke up, voice soft and full of concerned emotion.

"That's not gonna help..."

Daryl's head shot up as he quickly got to his feet, startled by her presence. He was quickly trying to hide the fact that he'd been crying, turning away from her while he scrubbed furiously at his face, drying his tears roughly.

"You don't have t' hide the fact that you're hurting, Daryl," Cheyenne reassured calmly, taking a step toward him as he turned his back on her again. "Not with me. You don't have t' be alone."

"Quit fussin'," he grumbled, voice still thick with barely concealed emotion as he sniffled, head bowed as if in shame. "Jus' leave me be."

"Why...?" she breathed quietly, ignoring his words and hesitantly reaching for his hand, trying to see how badly he had burned himself.

"Stop."

He flinched away from her, glaring at her through his fringe.

Cheyenne frowned slightly, tone lowered as she spoke again, cutting straight to the point before he could push her away anymore than he already had. "She wouldn't wanna see you like this...Dyin' on the inside with guilt you shouldn't have...It wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault."

"Ain't you got somethin' better t' do than pesterin' me?" he protested. But the gruffness he had spoken with a moment earlier had disappeared. His voice was strained, distressed in a way Cheyenne hadn't heard since that day after the prison, after his drunken blow up at the moonshiner's house with Beth. "Jus' go on back with the others an' leave me alone..."

"No." She shook her head defiantly, closing the space between them before he could pull away again. "I'm not leavin' you alone. Not ever. Not if this is the way you wanna deal with it all..."

He remained silent for a long moment, a vulnerable look crossing his features before he finally spoke, tone soft and full of remorse.

"I killed her."

Cheyenne's heart sank, a feeling of utter shock and grief gripping her entire being and squeezing until she could barely breathe. It didn't really surprise her that he felt responsible for Beth. He'd felt responsible for the prison, for Hershel. Why not Beth? She was more surprised that he had opened up so quickly. He hadn't before. They had nearly come to blows before he would talk about what happened at the prison, how he felt.

"It's all my fault," Daryl continued sadly, head bowed in shame. "I had two people to watch out for. If I'd of just kept my eye on 'er better..."

"Daryl, that wasn't your fault," Cheyenne protested, reaching for him. He backed away once again, refusing to let her touch him as she continued, face contorting slightly as she fought back her own emotions. "If it was anybody's fault, which it wasn't, it was mine. I was with her. If I would've been paying more attention, we wouldn't have gotten separated."

And suddenly, before Cheyenne could really process what was happening, Daryl's face crumpled, a look of pure heart break on his face as he burst into tears again. And when she reached for him this time, he didn't flinch away. He allowed her to breach the gap standing between them without a fight, allowed her to wrap her arms around him as his chest heaved painfully with the violent sobs that followed his tears.

"It's not your fault, Daryl..." Cheyenne cooed, stroking his hair as he clung to her, burying his face against the crook of her neck as he cried. "None of it was your fault..."

The pair remained there by that tree for a long time, Daryl sniffling softly as Cheyenne petted his hair, soothing him in the only way she knew how. And after what seemed like forever, he pulled away, rubbing at his eyes.

"Daryl...?" His name came out as a barely audible breath of air as she gently took his injured hand into both of hers, careful not to touch the burn. "Why this?"

He shrugged slightly, unable to meet her eyes.

"I was tired of feelin' nothin'...Thought maybe..." His voice trailed off as he seemed to think of a way of explaining himself. "I jus' didn't wanna feel numb anymore..."

Cheyenne nodded without a word, understanding in her eyes as she tugged him gently toward the path.

"We should get back...Rick and the others are probably gettin' worried."

Daryl nodded silently, shouldering his bow.

As they started off toward where they had left the group, comfortable with walking in silence, Cheyenne slipped her hand into Daryl's, half expecting him to shake her off. But surprisingly, he didn't let go...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to gunslingerdixon for the help with the "Carol quote"!
> 
> Again, I apologize for taking sooo long to update.


	34. A snapshot of the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a "What-If" scenario I've had on my mind for a while. AU, pre-series/pre-ZA

_A snapshot of the past (You were different before)_

* * *

..."Earl's gonna be so pissed!" she cried out to no one in particular, seemingly in her own little world as she paced beside the truck, ignoring his presence under the hood. So he ignored her in turn. The less he had to talk, the better he liked it.

He'd been working at the garage for a little over a month, and it seemed no one really wanted to chit-chat with the mechanics on duty. They were usually in too much of a hurry to be bothered, and he was glad to remain silent and get the car fixed as quickly as possible; send them on their way without so much as a "Yeah," when they (almost never) offered him a rushed 'Thank you' for his trouble.

But on this particular day with the hot Georgian sun beating down on his back, sweat causing his coveralls to stick to his body uncomfortably, Daryl found his mind wandering from the task at hand and over to the girl leaning against the truck door, her head bowed slightly in what appeared to be utter defeat.

"It's just a cracked distributor cap," he spoke up, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. "Won't take long t' fix. I think we got one that'll fit right here."

She didn't reply, but the look of relief on her face was unmistakable.

Without another word, Daryl went to find the part, wondering absentmindedly where such a delicate looking girl had gotten such a nasty shiner before pushing the thought away, not at all liking the road it was headed down.

Once he had found a distributor cap that would fit, he exited the garage, going back to the timid-looking girl and her broken down truck.

"I'll have it fixed in a minute," he muttered as he passed her, causing her to jump slightly and turn around.

She had been examining her black eye in the truck mirror, obviously too caught up in her own thoughts to notice him coming.

His sharp eyes caught the flinch and the wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights look that crossed her face before she nodded, opening the cab door and climbing in to sit behind the wheel while she waited.

He had also noticed just how fresh the bruise looked. Judging by the darker shades of purple smudged on her brow bone, the visible knuckle imprints there, someone's fist was the cause of the black eye, and very recently to boot.

The thought of someone hitting this girl, any girl, _anyone_ really, made his blood boil.

"There. It's fixed. You can pay over there." He pointed to the small office just inside the overhead garage door, slamming the hood a little harder than he'd initially intended to. His voice softened slightly at the look of fright that crossed the girl's face as she hopped out of the truck, eyeing him warily. "Ron'll take care of ya'."

The girl nodded, fairly sprinting to the office, leaving him alone beside the truck.

Nibbling at the side of his dirty thumb, Daryl suddenly had an idea.

When the girl returned, he was just slamming the hood shut again, wiping his dirty hands as she approached, her eyes tracking his every movement as he came around the truck to open the door for her.

"I added a quart o' oil. You were runnin' a'might low."

"But I can't pay---" she started to protest, a look of near terror in her eyes before he cut her off with a wave of his hand and a small shrug.

"Don't worry 'bout it."

"But---"

"It's on me," he insisted, gentling his tone as she held on to the door, staring at him.

She hopped into the truck cab after a moment of silence, as if she were trying to think of something to say to him before slamming the door and rolling the window down, giving him the first smile he'd seen out of her the whole time.

"Thank you," she said shyly, pushing her blonde hair back from her face and starting the engine. "I appreciate it..."

He shrugged, feeling awkward as he gave her a little wave and watched her back out of the lot and head down the highway.

Though he tried not to think about her, Daryl's mind had wandered to the little blonde girl more than once throughout the rest of the day.

Two days later however, he had completely forgotten about her...


	35. Welcome Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set during/after the events of 3x10 "Home"

...The attack had been so sudden. So unexpected.

Rick was out there, somewhere outside the fence, pinned down by a rain of bullets.

And just as suddenly as the chaos had begun, the gunfire slowed. The gunmen were retreating. They were winning!

Cheyenne felt a mixture of pride and relief wash over her as she fired off a couple more shots in the direction of the fleeing enemy. It was then that she saw Rick, -thank goodness he was alright- an unfamiliar figure linguring near his left and another male figure to his right. A figure she would recognize anywhere.

Daryl was back.

He was alright.

He was safe and he was back.

She couldn't stop the tears that suddenly clouded her vision, and she quickly rubbed the back of her fist over her eyes, biting her lip in an effort to control her emotions at the sight of the hunter.

She could see the three men scanning the prison fields; the damage, the walkers. She waved when she thought they were looking in her direction. Rick acknowledged her with a quick wave of his own before he, Daryl and the other man began to head toward the prison, taking out a stray walker here and there as they did so.

Rick was the first through the second fence, a reassuring hand placed momentarily on the blonde's shoulder as the stranger followed him inside, Daryl bringing up the rear.

Rick didn't need to say it. Cheyenne had already guessed who the stranger was.

If all the stories she'd heard from her makeshift family about Merle Dixon were true, she had the feeling that things just might get interesting in a hurry.

Looking up, she was pleasantly surprised to find Daryl's eyes were on her, tracking her every movement as she sized the eldest Dixon up. He was checking to make sure that she was alright, his eyes sweeping over her carefully, checking for any sign of injury. When he appeared satisfied that she was unharmed, he lowered his gaze, chewing at his lower lip unconsciously, muscles tensed with nervous energy as he tried to keep one eye on Merle and the other on her.

Without a word, Cheyenne subtly edged closer to him, reaching down to give his hand a light squeeze.

When Merle and Rick's attentions had turned to the others, she leaned in, whispering a quick, "Glad you're back..."

Daryl's tone was hushed, barely above a whisper as he squeezed her hand gently back, giving her a slight nod. "Glad to be back."...


	36. The Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A missing scene (in my own mind) from 6x01 'First Time Again'. Sorry it's a little rushed. I'll probably edit it at a later date.

_We'll never know when we'll run out of time..._

* * *

...She had passed Rick and Morgan on their way out, nodding politely to her leader and the new-comer as she made her way up the front steps and into the house, barely taking the time to close the door in her hurry.

The others hadn't come back yet. Everyone had gathered at Glenn and Maggie's, still too wired from the events of the meeting-turned-execution to fully relax and go to bed.

That was why she had went for a walk. That was how she had inadvertantly overhead Aaron explaining what had happened while he and Daryl were out to Eric.

_If Morgan hadn't come when he did, I don't know if we'd be here right now..._

Her heart was still pounding with misplaced terror as she made her way into the kitchen, taking in the sight of Daryl seated at the island as she entered, an empty bowl pushed to the side, near his elbow. He looked absolutely exhausted, his gaze somewhere far away as she stood there staring, blue eyes wide.

The reality of what had very nearly happened out there came crashing down on her in one huge tidal wave of thoughts and emotions as she stood there staring. He was safe, apparently uninjured, but the knowledge of what _could_ have happened was utterly staggering.

_What am I going to do when you're gone? What if it was me? Will you miss me if I go first? What if? What if? What if?..._

Finally, he looked up, standing without a word, watching her carefully as she took in a shuddering breath before surging forward to wrap her arms around his midriff, burying her face against his chest.

He didn't speak. Didn't question her in the slightest. Just enveloped her in his arms and held her close. He knew exactly what was wrong without her even saying.

"It's late," she murmured after what seemed like forever, sniffling quietly, breath warm against his sternum as she looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "You look like shit."

"Feel like shit," he mumbled in agreement as she averted her gaze, trying to get her emotions under control.

Silently, she took him by the hand, tugging him toward the stairs. He allowed her to lead him, following her upstairs and into the bathroom with little resistance, the faintest of smiles twitching at his lips as she closed and locked the door behind them.

Cheyenne knew he wasn't exactly sure how she had found out, but at the moment, she was fairly certain he could have cared less. And quite frankly, she didn't care to explain. In the heat of the moment, she had been terrified. But now, standing in front of Daryl, deftly flicking the buttons on his shirt open while he watched her, she didn't want to think about the unknown anymore...


	37. Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An EXTREMELY short drabble in anticipation of tonights mid-season finale. Set during 6x08 "Start To Finish". OFC's POV/thought process. I know this isn't my best. *hides behind Daryl until Feb. 14*

...Chaos. So much chaos. The wall is down. Walkers are getting inside. Someone's screaming. _Everyone's screaming._

And the only thing I can think of is you.

Where are you? Please be alright. Please come back to me safe and sound like you always do.

_Please, God, let me be here for him if--- **when** he comes back._

I'm already running low on ammo. There's too many. _Don't get cornered._

Rick? What happened to Rick? I can't see him anymore. Where's Michonne? Is she okay? _Oh, shit! Is that---?_

Run. Don't look back. _Run..._


	38. Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains thoughts of suicide. Don't read if this subject is upsetting!  
> a "missing scene" set during 2x05 'Chupacabra' (ofc-centric)

_Whoever said silence was golden was a liar..._

* * *

...The weight of the .38 in her hands was almost comforting. Cold steel against warm, dirt-smeared flesh. She was tired of running. Tired of being alone. Tired of _living_ if she really wanted to be honest with herself. It had been over a month since she had last seen an actual honest-to-goodness _person,_ and that hadn't been a good experience.

Like a fool, she had ran right up to a total stranger, tried to help him get away from the dead cannibals swarming him and nearly paid for that act of kindness with her life. He had turned on her the moment the reanimated corpses weren't an immediate threat, pointed a gun in her face and demanded she hand over her supplies and weapons.

Shooting him in the face the moment she had the chance had been easy. She had used the very same gun she was holding now.

 _It was him or me,_ she thought placidly, shaking her head slightly at the memory.

The woods around her were quiet save for the birds singing overhead, the breeze rustling leaves in the trees, the sound of water rushing by in the creek to her right. It was the silence that was starting to get to her. The loneliness.

Whoever said silence was golden was a liar.

Examining the gun in her hands, she frowned slightly, thinking.

It would be so easy to turn the gun, just pull the trigger. Just like she had with that man. No more pain. No more hunger. No more fear. _No more being alone._

She couldn't help but think the last one was the most appealing.

She closed her eyes; raised the gun slowly and pulled back the hammer, finger on the trigger---

_"Yeah, you better run!"_

Her eyes flew open, the gun slipping from her grip and falling to the forest floor...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jan. 6, 2016 - First update of the new year! yippee! :)  
> I'd like to say thank you once again to all the lovely readers who have taken the time to leave comments, kudos or bookmark this. It's appreciated in more ways than I can describe! Thank you!!  
> Onward! EITD


	39. Heartbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between episodes 4x12 "Still" and 4x13 "Alone" with mentions of 4x08 "Too Far Gone"

...The prison yard was crawling with walkers.

Cheyenne stumbled, falling right into the open arms of an oncoming walker. With a shriek, she jammed her knife through it's eye, crashing to the ground on top of the rotting corpse.

Scrambling to her feet, the blonde looked around herself, trying to see which direction anyone she knew had taken, hoping to catch up with Rick, Michonne, Daryl, _anybody._

"It's too late," a gruff voice said from behind her.

Whirling, Cheyenne gaped in horror at the sight before her, the walker staggering toward her. She was frozen; rooted to the spot as icy fingers of terror gripped her heart and squeezed it painfully tight at the sight of the man shuffling toward her.

Daryl reached out toward her, his voice a throttled groan as he spoke again, a river of black/red blood running from his mouth. "You shouldn't be here."

Cheyenne choked, unable to speak. Tears burned her eyes, the death grip she had been keeping on her knife suddenly lax, the weapon clattering to the ground as the approaching walker slowly advanced on her, backing her up against the prison wall. Bloodstained teeth grinned at her as Daryl snarled, cold, rotting fingers latching onto her hair and yanking her head to the side.

Her scream was swallowed by darkness as Daryl sank his bloodied teeth into her throat---

* * *

He'd been watching her sleep for five minutes now, taking note of how tense she had suddenly become in sleep, the rapid movement of her eyes beneath her closed lids. She was having a nightmare, he was sure.

Sighing softly, he got up, edging closer to her.

Carefully, he positioned himself over her so he could grab her if she went for her knife, gently shaking her shoulder.

Cheyenne awoke with a gasp, blue eyes wide and terrified as she stared up at him.

"Hey," he murmured, trying to make his voice sound as calm and soothing as possible as she shrank away from him. "It's alright. You were havin' a bad dream."

Suddenly, Cheyenne's face crumpled. Before he could fully register her movement, she sat up, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him close. Burying her face against his chest, she began to cry softly, clinging to him for dear life.

Taken aback, Daryl sat there rigidly for a moment, unsure of what to do. After a few heart beats of awkward silence, he placed an arm around the blonde, hesitantly cradling her close as she continued to cry.

"Oh, Daryl..." she whispered after a few seconds, clutching at his jacket and vest. "It was so _real..._ It was all _so real..._ "

"Well, it's over now," he murmued against the top of her head.

"Daryl," Cheyenne murmured, snuggling in tighter. "I'm scared..."

"Don't be," he sighed, rubbing her back unconsciously. "I'm right here. Beth's here. We're safe. There's nothin' to be afraid of. It was just a bad dream."

Nodding slightly, Cheyenne closed her eyes, her grip tightening around the hunter's midriff as he started to move away. "Don't go...Please?"

"Alright..." Daryl murmured, biting his lip nervously as Cheyenne smiled sleepily up at him, snuggling in against him, her head on his chest.

Slowly, Daryl relaxed, his arm wrapped protectively around the blonde. Beth was within arms reach, and they were safe. It would be daylight soon, and he could use a few hours of shut eye.

Cheyenne drifted off to sleep with the comforting sound of Daryl's heartbeat beneath her ear and his strong arms around her. She was warm and she felt safe.

By morning, she had completely forgotten about the nightmare...


	40. Watching and Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a 'missing scene' type thing set during the last 5-ish minutes of 6x15 "East". Rick/OFC-interaction.

_...Why does the one you love become the one who makes you want to cry?..._

          - Maroon 5, "How"

* * *

 ..."Rick!" Cheyenne called, jogging across the street to meet him. "Did you guys find Carol?"

The leader shook his head, a worried frown tugging the corners of his mouth downward. "Morgan's still out there looking."

Biting her lip, the blonde nodded slightly, her gaze wandering toward the road leading away from the Safe-Zone. "No sign of Daryl and the others yet?"

Another slow, sad-looking shake of the head was the only answer the former lawman offered.

Sighing softly, Cheyenne tried to hide the crestfallen look that undoubtedly crossed her face. If only she'd seen Daryl before he left. Maybe she could've stopped him.

Rick, observant as usual, must have noticed the worried look in her eyes. Without a word, he edged closer, wrapping one arm around her thin shoulders and tugged her close. "Hey...they'll be alright," he murmured, obviously trying to sound reassuring and confident. There was hope in his tone...But there was also doubt.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, threatening to surface as she wrapped her arms around her leader's waist, hugging him back.

"They'll be okay..." she whispered, trying to convince herself. "They'll be okay..."

They stood there like that, clinging to each other, watching and waiting.

Abraham had quietly moved away, stepping out of ear-shot and silently offering the duo their space, allowing them to take comfort in each other's presense without the intrusion or awkwardness of a third wheel.

The silence that had fallen between them was suddenly broken a moment later by Enid's panicked shout, and the pair were quickly pulling apart, running toward Glenn and Maggie's with Abraham in tow, their worries momentarily forgotten as yet another crisis rose it's ugly head...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking so long to update lately. Writers block is a monster :(


	41. Something To Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In anticipation of the season 7 premiere tomorrow night!  
> Set during the last few seconds of 6x16 "Last Day On Earth". OFC's POV, mentions canonical character death(s?).

_...You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry...Hell, you're all gonna be doin' that..._

* * *

..."Look at _that!_ Takin' it like a _champ!"_ the monster before them crows triumphantly, the amusement in his tone matching the sickeningly gleeful smirk on his face as he hauls the bat back, striking his victim again and again, blow after merciless blow. He seems delighted by their anguished cries, their panicked shrieks bleeding into one gut-wrenching wail of mental and emotional agony as he continues his assault on his victim, ignoring them.

She screams herself raw.

Screams until her throat feels like she's swallowed broken glass.

Screams until she can't scream any more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. I apologize for taking so long to update lately and for how short this one is. Writers block is an absolute monster! :(


	42. Feed The Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY a new chapter! Set during 7x04 "Service". Negan/OFC-interaction. TRIGGER WARNINGS for non-consensual touching and threats of violence/injury. If these subjects are upsetting, please, don't read this chapter.

...Standing back, doing nothing but watching as the Saviors carried away their beds, their guns, was the hardest part of all. They were taking _more_ than the half they had promised. She wasn't sure if it was punishment for Carl's little outburst in the pantry or just Negan being the jerk that he was. Probably the latter. She didn't blame Carl though, she had wanted to do the same thing.

Her eyes were wandering again, following Daryl's familiar figure as he obediently helped the Saviors load Negan's trucks. A mixture of anger and sadness was raging inside her, her fists clenched at her sides as she watched, taking in Daryl's ragged appearance.

Lost in thought, she didn't even notice someone approaching her from behind.

"Blondie!" an all too familiar voice boomed, breaking her train of thought and startling her. She whirled, glaring up at the towering figure looming over her.

Negan smirked, obviously amused by her annoyance. "You wouldn't by any chance be lookin' at the help, now, would ya'?" He asked, continuing before she even had a chance to think up a lie. "Because I _do not_ want to have to make you or Rick or anybody else hack anything off of poor Daryl over there. I mean, Dwight's been feedin' the poor guy dog food and molded bread! And that stuff is gross as shit!"

Cheyenne tried not to react to this news, averting her eyes slightly as Negan's smile widened.

"I guess he must like it, though. I mean, I made him an offer I didn't think he could refuse. I offered him the easy life. Soft bed, nice clothes, good food...All he had to do was tell me who he was."

The big man must have sensed her confusion. He chuckled lightly, but didn't offer any further explanation.

"Oh, well. I guess it doesn't matter. He's still workin' for me, no matter what option he chooses."

Cheyenne gritted her teeth, her anger toward the man building with every second. In a way, she was glad they had their guns. She wasn't entirely certain she could resist the temptation of shooting Negan in the face at the moment. He was making her extremely uncomfortable; his eyes were roving over her, taking in every inch of her, as if he were sizing her up. She'd seen that look too many times before. She was beginning to feel nauseous, light-headed, her skin prickling with discomfort as the man finally spoke again, his tone light and thoughtful.

"You are a _pretty_ little thing, aren't you?" Negan mused, a leather-clad hand coming up to touch her cheek, stroke her hair.

She shrank from him, blue eyes wide with fear as he chuckled, inching closer.

"You might wanna be just a little more friendly, sweetheart," he crooned, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. "I mean, I could get mad. And I _know_ you know what happens when I get mad." He made a swinging motion, as if he were holding his stupid bat. "I might just take it out on poor Daryl over there if you're not. I mean, Lucille _hates_ it when pretty little girls like you aren't nice to her daddy."

Icy cold fear shot through her heart, her eyes automatically shifting in Daryl's direction. The threat in Negan's tone chilled her to the core, causing her to flinch when the man chuckled, grabbing her by the arm and drawing her in close.

"You wouldn't want that, now, would ya'?"

"No..." she murmured, biting back a startled yelp when his fingers began digging in to her flesh, his grip tightening like a vice on her arm.

"I didn't quite catch that, sweetheart," he sneered, his breath hot against her cheek as he leaned in close, his tone dark with the promise of violence. "You mind repeatin' that?"

"No, _sir_ ," she rephrased through gritted teeth, hating how small and pathetic she sounded. Hating him even more.

"That's better." Negan smiled again, patting her head gently before allowing her to yank her arm away. "Be seein' you again, princess...Soon."

"I'm not your princess!" she spat without thinking, watching him warily when she realized what she'd done.

His face still bore that high-and-mighty smile, his dark eyes flashing gleefully as the smile grew twofold, Cheshire-wide with satisfaction. He'd gotten under her skin and he knew it.

He chuckled lightly, a thoughtful, amused little laugh before turning his back to her and swaggering away.

Cheyenne watched as he strode away, releasing the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I change the rating on this? Add more warnings? With Negan and all, I'm a little insecure/nervous ^.^


	43. Fear and Hopelessness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-7x01 "The Day Will Come When You Won't Be", pre-7x04 "Service".

...She can't sleep.

It's too quiet, and she's too upset.

The events of the night before are still too fresh, the wounds too raw. She can still hear the anguished sobs of her family, the sickening crunch of skulls being smashed into unrecognizable lumps of gore, the gleeful laughter and crude jokes of a bat-wielding psychopath looming over them.

She shivers in the cool night air, squeezing her eyes shut tight, fighting back the tears threatening to flow. Abraham had went down like a soldier; brave and proud, offering up one final insult to his executioner before falling. Glenn, however, had been unexpected. Ripped away in a cruel bid to show them who was calling the shots. It should have been Daryl. At least that was what everyone had been expecting. She'd held her breath, frozen with terror, waiting for Negan to take his anger out on the hunter.

But that blow never came.

Daryl had been dragged back into the lineup by Dwight. And Negan had lectured them. Taunted them. Repeated his earlier threat. Dragging the torture and suspense out.

 _I'm a man of my word,_ he'd said. _First impressions are important. I need you to know me._

She'd watched with mounting dread as a twisted smile slowly spread across the man's face, the grip on the bat in his hands tightening as he continued. _So...back to it._

He'd turned on Glenn, bashed his head in without a second thought. Forced them to watch as a second member of their family died. Laughed at their tears and their sobs.

She'd never felt so helpless. So utterly _useless._

And then, as if murdering both Abraham and Glenn wasn't enough, they took Daryl.

 _He's got guts,_ Negan had sneered, taunting their broken leader mercilessly. _I like him. He's mine now._

Wiping furiously at her tears with one hand, Cheyenne clings to the porch railing with the other, trying to calm herself. Wrapped up in grief and guilt, she barely notices when Rick appears out of the dark, his gate slow and weary as he climbs the three steps up to the porch and sidles up to her.

"Couldn't sleep," he offers after a few moments of silence. "Thought maybe a walk would help."

Cheyenne nods slightly, only half-listening.

"We need to go on a run soon. One week isn't much time..."

"Nope," she answers derisively, her tone laced with venomous hatred. "Don't wanna keep our new _master_ waiting, now, do we."

Rick sighs wearily. "I know this isn't ideal," he starts patiently. "But there's nothing else we can do. If we don't, someone else dies. I'm not in charge anymore---"

"Yeah, I know Rick. I already heard this speech once. I was there, remember?" she interrupts tersely. "I get it. I understand. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No," Rick nods in agreement. "No, it doesn't."

The silence that falls between them is deafening, but she can't speak. The words won't form. She's too angry and too hurt. She bites her lip, sniffles, trying in vain to hold back a fresh tide of tears.

A warm, rough hand is suddenly on her shoulder, squeezing gently, silently comforting as she breaks down.

With a sob, she turns, wrapping her arms around her leader and burying her face in his chest, crying softly into the creases and folds of his shirt as he holds her tight...


	44. I Lived...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set during 7x08 "Hearts Still Beating".

_With every broken bone, I swear I lived..._

     - OneRepublic, "I Lived".

 

...The walk to the Hilltop had been long, hot and dusty, but the reward at the end of that trek was worth it.

Maggie greeted them at the gates with arms wide open, smiling through tears.

_"I'm okay...The baby's okay..._ **All** _of us."_

Rick was speaking, but Cheyenne wasn't listening. A movement behind Maggie's shoulder and off to the right had caught her eyes.

A familiar figure slowly stepped out from behind a building, followed by a solemn-looking Jesus. He was cleaner than the last time she'd seen him, wearing the smaller man's clothes, his hair hanging in its usual messy tangles over his eyes. Her heart was in her throat, tears blurring her vision as his name burst from her lips in a weak, almost inaudible whisper.

_"Daryl..."_

Cheyenne stood rooted to the spot for the briefest of seconds, watching as Rick moved forward, striding up to the other man without hesitation. The others were moving as well, offering hugs and smiles. Tara stepped forward, followed by Michonne. A gentle hand on her shoulder finally snapped her out of her shock and back into the present. Maggie was smiling, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Cheyenne gave the other woman a watery smile in return, slinging an arm around her waist for a quick hug before stepping forward, trying and failing to hide her relieved tears as she reached for Daryl.

He wrapped his arms around her willingly, crushing her against his chest in the tightest bear hug she'd ever received.

She was trembling as she buried her face in the curve between his neck and shoulder, breathing in the musky-familiar scent of him. "You're here..." she whispered against his skin, her tears flowing freely. "You made it..."

"Yeah..." he murmured in response, his voice rough with barely concealed emotion.

Pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, she drew away, composing herself as Daryl turned back to their leader, offering him the gun he'd carried since the beginning of the end.

Nodding to herself, Cheyenne followed her leader, her _family,_ toward Hilltop Mansion.

War was on the horizon.

And, if she had her way, Negan would be paying for his sins soon. Very soon...


End file.
